


The Various Unrelated Adventures of Tom and Chris

by zgory



Category: Actor RPF, Hunger Games (2012) RPF, Marvel Avengers Movies RPF, Thor (2011) RPF
Genre: Community: norsekink, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protectiveness, Schmoop, fluffy crack, one pwp, unrelated one shots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-04
Updated: 2012-09-05
Packaged: 2017-11-13 13:12:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 29,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/503887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zgory/pseuds/zgory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of one-shots originally done at the kinkmemes. Caveat Lector!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Hiddlesworth Sandwich

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom finds himself in the middle of an Alpha Hemsworth pissing contest.

"Hello, there."

Tom turns at the sound of the voice and is slightly surprised to find his eyes traveling upward for eye contact. The remarkably familiar face has his eyebrows knitting together in vague recognition. 

"Liam, right?"

The younger Hemsworth smiles -it's an echo of his brother's- and nods. "That would be me," he replies while holding out a hand. "It's nice to finally meet you, Tom."

Tom nods and returns the smile with one of his own. He grips Liam's hand and gives it a fair amount of shakes. Tom is ready to let go but finds Liam's grip to be unrelenting. Confusion now tints the smile on his face. 

"You know," continues Liam, "in another world I would've been your on-screen brother."

Tom chuckles good naturedly. "Yeah, Chris has mentioned that before. But then you wouldn't have gotten the opportunity to be in this great franchise." He moves his head around to indicate the packed room for the premiere party. 

Liam seems to have not heard the second statement as Tom feels his hand momentarily squeezed harder and the Aussie's jaw clenches. "Chris would mention that." He takes a moment to wind down and is all smiles again. "We've always been very competitive. I could tell you a bunch of stories. You know, help inform your character for the sequel. Let you know what it's really like to have him as a brother."

Tom laughs a bit nervously. "It's a tempting offer, but I would probably run the risk of reacting more to Chris than Thor."

"Well let me just tell you for the sake of a good story," insists Liam. "Shoot the breeze and all that."

Before Tom responds, he feels someone coming up behind him, but the fact he's not bristling at the violation of his personal space bubble tells him who it is before a familiar deep voice starts speaking. 

"Jesus, Liam. You've held on long enough. Why don't you let go before you take his hand off."

As Tom twists to look at the owner of the voice, he feels the grip on his hand tighten. He catches a glimpse of the elder Hemsworth's hard, steely glare and then feels his hand finally being released. He blinks, and the uncharacteristically dark expression is now replaced with the familiar all-consuming grin of Chris'. The transition is so quick that Tom questions if he imagined the other expression.

"I see you've acquainted youself my brother," comments Chris while clapping a hand to Tom's shoulder. 

"Yes. In fact, he was apparently about to share some very blackmail worthy stories about you from childhood."

Chris laughs heartily, but Tom senses an undercurrent of something else mingled with the mirth. 

"Oh, like tossing a throwing knife at someone's head?"

Tom whips back round to stare at Liam who is getting redder. Liam scratches the back of his head and works his jaw before he replies with, "It's not like it hit you blade first."

"True but the pendulum definitely swings both ways on the stories we could tell about each other."

Tom looks back at Chris who has a self-satisfied smirk on his face. There's a twinkle in his eye which seems to be daring his brother to make a move. And suddenly, Tom feels the space in front of him being occupied. Sure enough, when he turns his head forward, Liam has stepped so close that their chests are only centimeters apart. The younger Hemsworth is practically glaring at his brother.

Then Tom feels his own back being pressed against a solid mass of chest, and Tom knows Chris is returning the expression though he hopes it's less hostile. He briefly wonders what this must look like to anyone else not currently trapped between the two brothers. It's not a wholly unpleasant experience, but it is quite surreal to be caught in between what is most certainly shaping up to be an Alpha Hemsworth pissing contest. Which is funny because Tom recalls Chris talking about an older brother, so this would really be a Beta male thing but then he figures these two must do things like this when the eldest isn't around so the original analogy still stands.

"I just thought it'd be nice to share some stories with your charming castmate."

"Oh, so we're on the same wave length then?" 

Tom gets to watch firsthand as Liam slightly pales. "W-what?"

"Well, I was just catching up with Josh over there-" Tom cranes his neck over Chris' shoulder and notices both an animated brunette chatting with an equally animated blond who he recognizes from various promotional materials. "And our converstaion got a bit carried away. Then Jennifer made her way over and after some general introductions, we swapped some stories. Excellent conversationalists, the pair of them. You better watch out in your next group interview."

Liam's eyes dart over to his two co-stars. Whatever they are talking about, it appears to involve a lot of arm gestures and laughter. Liam turns his attention back to his brother and gives the duo a once over with narrowing eyes. "Well I'm sure we can trade stories one day. Pleasure meeting you, Tom." He begins to stick his hand out but then thinks better of it and merely aims a curt nod at the Brit. 

"Same," replies Tom with what he hopes is an even tone.

Liam's smile disappears as he looks at his brother next. "And Chris," he performs a hand gesture which one shouldn't unleash in such a public setting.

Tom leans forward as Chris does a fake-out lunge which has Liam skittering toward his co-stars. The Brit feels the chuckle rumbling through the younger actor. He turns to face him and is now finally aware of the hand around his waist. He raises an eyebrow at Chris as he comes about face. "Care to put away your tape measure now?"

Chris scratches the back of his head and somehow manages to look sheepful and resilient at the same time. "Chalk it up to age old siling rivalry?"

"I don't think things between me and my sisters ever escalated to throwing weapons at each other," points out Tom.

"I'd say it's boys being boys, but I'm not so sure after hearing some of Jennifer's stories."

Both turn their attention to the young woman who towers over Josh yet still manages to be shorter than Liam. The laugh she releases is low and loud, and she playfully punches the Aussie in the shoulder. Then she starts to mime something involving a gallop, and the display has Tom's eyebrows shooting into his head.

"What... is... she doing?"

Chris watches in amazement and laughs after Liam quickly shoots him a look of horror. Josh and Jennifer seem to take the panicked gesture as some sort of confirmation because the duo then bursts into laughter. "It seems she's really taken to the story of Liam chasing me around with a broom."

"Whatever would he do with a broom?"

Chris brings his mouth to Tom's ear -Tom briefly misses the feel of stubble- and quips, "Certainly not what I would do to you if I had one."

Tom manages to swallow his splutter and notices the return of the hand on his waist. "Marking your territory much?"

"Just telling the little brother to back off is all."

"Wait," says Tom as something occurs to him, "were you jealous?"

Chris' silence is answer enough, and Tom laughs while poking Chris playfully in the shoulder. 

"Oh my goodness! You were!" Chris opens his mouth to say something, but Tom cuts him off. "Well worry not because I'm not trading you in for a younger model for the foreseeable future," teases the Brit. 

Chris laughs his low laugh which sends chills through Tom and presses his forehead to Tom's. "Guess I'll just have to fuck you silly until you only see stars then."

Tom cannot fight the blush which stains his cheeks, and Chris is quickly pressing a kiss to his temple. Feeling the smile in the kiss, Tom momentarily wonders where he can get a hold of a broom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Liam went up for the role of Thor but obviously didn't get it.
> 
> 2\. According to several interviews, Chris and Liam had quite the violent sibling rivalry when they were younger.
> 
> 3\. Jennifer Lawrence also has some horror stories.
> 
> 4\. Chris Hemsworth and Josh Hutcherson filmed Red Dawn before Thor or The Hunger Games.


	2. Dog Eat Dog World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On an episode of Punk'd, Liam's dog proves to be the root of many problems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Punk'd was revived minus Ashton as the host. 
> 
> 2\. Floyd exists, and [this](http://i.imgur.com/pYf0p.jpg) is he.

Chris' smile widens as he watches Tom rub the husky's belly. The puppy's legs kick the air with pleasure. Its tail wags back and forth excitedly.

"What did you say his name was again?" asks Tom while keeping his eyes on the dog. Absolute adoration illuminates his face as he smiles at the pup.

A flash of jealousy surges through Chris as he temporarily wishes to trade places with the husky. But he quickly shakes it off and answers with a chuckle, "Floyd."

The unusual name draws the Brit's attention from the dog, and he looks to the Aussie with furrowed eyebrows. He mouths the name back to Chris, and Chris simply shrugs his shoulders. "I'm not sure who named him."

"Well, either way he's the most adorable thing I've ever seen," exclaims Tom as he turns back to the puppy and leans in close. Floyd licks his nose in response, and Tom laughs in delight while rubbing its belly with even more enthusiasm. Chris privately disagrees with Tom's assessment of what 'the most adorable thing ever' is.

The Aussie glances around the park for a glimpse of his brother and only sees one other man with his dog in the area. He sighs in irritation.

"What's wrong?" asks Tom picking up on his change in mood.

"Just wondering where Liam's gotten off to. He's been gone for nearly twenty minutes when we just parked over there." He gestures vaguely over a row of hedges in the near distance.

"Well, I can't say I'm complaining since it's gotten us more time with this little guy," states Tom in a very cheery tone. Floyd now leans against the Brit who in turn is sitting with his back against a nearby tree. The husky eagerly nuzzles at the Brit, and it seems the dog is just as enamored with the actor as the actor is with the dog.

Chris cannot contain his smile. He squats down and scratches Floyd behind the ears. "True," he says slowly, "but he went to go get those little baggies. I mean, we've been lucky so far but--"

"I'd be okay to stay with Floyd while you find out what's holding up your brother," quickly offers Tom.

Floyd also looks at Chris, and the Aussie finds himself on the receiving end of two sets of puppy dog eyes. It's hard to resist, and so Chris just laughs and nods. As he gets up, he simultaneously ruffles both Tom and Floyd's heads.

Tom slaps his hand away with a smile on his face, and Floyd simply barks.

* * *

He groans in frustration when his brother comes into view. Liam leans against the back of the SUV with a cell phone nestled between his ear and shoulder. From the half of the converstaion Chris hears, he guesses it must be Miley on the other end. He pushes his brother, and Liam shoves him back while betraying nothing with his voice.

"Hold on, babe," says Liam before covering the bottom of the cell phone with his hand. He looks at Chris with eyebrows raised in irritation. "What?"

Chris folds his arms against his chest. "Was it really necessary for you to have your conversation all the way out here before bringing back the bags?" He inclines his head in the direction he just came from.

"Has Floyd gone yet?"

"No."

Liam rolls his eyes. "Then why are you freaking out?"

"It's just odd when you disappear. That's all."

Liam gives him a tight-lipped smile. "Thanks for the concern, but I'm not done so here you go." He tosses the small box of baggies at Chris who promptly catches them.

"Thanks," he says sarcastically. Liam gives him the finger and resumes his conversation.

Chris rolls his eyes at his brother but jogs back to Tom and Floyd. Seeing Tom brings a smile to his face. The Brit is currently talking to the other occupant of the park Chris noted from earlier. Floyd paces behind Tom, but the other dog races around in the distance chasing some unforeseen foe.

Chris briefly marvels at Tom's ability to charm complete strangers when the other dog owner grabs Tom by the collar and yanks him to his lower eye level.

The sight would be comical considering the other man is several inches shorter than Tom. But the fact that this other man is screaming in Tom's face and on the verge of shaking the Brit has Chris racing over to the duo.

"Hey! What's the problem here?"

Upon seeing Chris, the stranger unhands Tom with a thrust and points heatedly at Floyd.

"Is that your fucking dog?" screams the stranger.

"It's my brother's," quickly replies Chris, "but--"

"Oh, so you're just gonna pass the buck too?" cuts off the agitated dog owner.

Chris' eyebrows furrow in confusion and growing agitation. "I don't know what you're talking about but why--"

"You're fucking dog pissed all over me!"

Floyd barks as if to confirm this claim.

Chris sniffs instinctively to assess if this is true but can't quite pick up on anything.

"That's an exaggeration," interjects Tom vehemently. "If anything he probably just got a small splash on your leg."

The angry little man whips his attention back to Tom. "Don't tell me what that mutt--" At this point, he pushes Tom backwards which has the Brit stumbling a bit over the roots of the nearby tree.

"Hey!" barks Chris as he claps a hand over the guy's shoulder. "Why don't you take a breather, and maybe--"

The man shrugs off the larger man's grip and points right in his face. "You try calming down with piss all over you!" shouts the stranger.

Floyd barks again which has the man twirling in the direction of the culprit. The guy lunges for the dog, but Tom steps determinedly in front of the husky. Before Chris can stop him, the other man harshly shoves Tom backwards once more. Floyd scurries out of the way, and Tom's foot slips against one of the roots causing him to fall. The Brit fails to stop his descent, and Chris' eyes widen in horror as he watches Tom's eyes clench shut as hi head bounces against various other upturned roots.

The man sneers and turns his attention back to Chris. The Aussie's fist wipes the expression clear off his face. The man staggers backwards while tenderly clutching his face. He stares at Chris in amazement.

"What the fu--"

"You better fucking run," warns Chris before he lunges at the other man.

He misses, and the man bolts off with his dog soon chasing after him.

Before Chris can follow, he hears Floyd's incessant whimpering. Tom remains motionless on the ground, and Chris is immediately kneeling by his side. He gingerly touches Tom's shoulders and calls out to him in a low voice.

"Tom? Tom? Tom!" The tone of his voice escalates with urgency with each utterance of the man's name that fails to bring a response. "Oh, god, please tell me you're all right!" It takes all of his restraint to keep himself from shaking Tom into consciousness.

Finally, Tom quietly groans. His hand reaches for his forehead, and his eyes soon flutter open.

Chris sighs in relief as he looks into the other man's eyes. They're a bit dazed at first, but they eventually focus in on Chris. He blinks several times, and then Floyd starts licking his face.

Tom smiles but inclines his head away from the puppy. Chris gently guides Floyd away from the Brit and then slowly helps Tom sit up.

He looks around the park slowly with a defensive hunch to his shoulders. "Where'd that little sod go?"

Chris lets out a relieved laugh, clasps Tom's face between his hands, and kisses him. He laughs into the kiss as the Brit gasps and smiles brightly when he pulls away. "I scared him off for you," he states before engulfing Tom into a tight bear hug.

Tom's body tenses which honestly confuses Chris. Then he hears a particularly forced cough from behind them.

With one arm still around Tom, Chris turns to find an abashed Liam. He's not alone though. Surrounding his younger brother is a camera crew, two joggers, and the man he just assaulted.

Chris nearly jumps the man again, but the presence of Tom's hand on his arm gives him pause. He looks back to Tom whose eyes have widened comically. When Chris turns back to his brother, the presence of the camera crew finally registers. His face scrunches up in confusion.

"What the hell's going on, Liam?"

"Ummmm..." responds his brother most eloquently. He scratches the back of his head, cranes his head sideways, and squints one eye. "You've just been Punk'd?"

Chris blinks rapidly as he allows the words to process. Then he's up in a flash, and Liam's expression drops as he recognizes the expression on his face.

"You little--" shouts Chris as he chases after his brother. Years of rough-housing seem to give Liam a boost in his head start, but Floyd proves to be a blessing in disguise when he chases after his master and trips him up. Before Liam can recover, Chris wraps an arm around his neck, wrenches it down, and roughly rubs his knuckles into his head.

"You little shit!" grits out Chris with a hint of affection.

Liam's cheeks are flushed when Chris finally lets him go, and the younger points accusatorily at the older. "You're the one who ruined the prank! Forcing us to cut it short with your freak out."

"So that was all a prank?"

Liam rolls his eyes at him and explains the details of the prank had it been allowed to continue. Accusations of dog theft, more arguments revolving around dog piss, passerby joggers acting as annoying false witnesses, and finally something about a dog playing dead while convincing Chris it was actually dead and he was to blame for it were all a part of the larger plot.

"But that all went to hell the second you sucker-punched that guy," comments Liam. "And I doubt Mtv's allowed to air that so with editing all they've got is you being all lovey-dovey with Tom." Liam's eyebrows raise questioningly, but Chris stiffens at the reminder of the Brit and races back to him.

Tom's back on on his feet and seems to be no worse for wear. Chris watches him to make sure he's steady before taking a step forward and lightly grasping Tom's shoulders.

"Were you in on this?" asks the Aussie. For Liam's sake, Tom better have been a knowing participant.

Tom cringes with guilt. "Ehehehe," he chuckles nervously as he holds up his hands in a placating gesture. "I'm not the god of mischief for nothing."

Chris lets out a booming laugh in relief and brings Tom's face forward to give him another impromptu kiss. As he pulls away, Tom blinks in dazed shock. Chris smirks at him and by the time Tom sees it, it's too late.

Chris' hands travel down to Tom's waist, grip both sides firmly, and heaves the Brit over his shoulder. Tom yelps and thumps Chris' back, but the Aussie just takes it all in stride and slaps Tom squarely on the ass which garners another yelp.

"Chris! Put me down right now!" demands Tom.

Chris just tightens his hold on Tom's legs in response. He turns to his brother and the camera crew who are all watching with varying expressions of confusion and amusement. "Anything else you guys need from me?"

"Uh, well," stutters Liam. "You just have to say the catchphrase is all."

One cameraman eagerly steps towards the siblings, and Chris grins cheekily into the camera. "I'm Chris Hemsworth, and I've just been Punk'd... well, sort of." He inclines his back towards Tom. "Would you like to add anything?"

He turns around so Tom is facing the camera. The squirming of Tom's crotch into his shoulder sends a pleasurable jolt down his spine, and he grips Tom even harder. The Brit wriggles even more, and Chris prays no one heard his groan.

"I'm Tom Hiddleston," breathlessly introduces the Brit, "and I suspect I'm in for a Punking of my own." And with one more undignified gasp born from another smack, Chris races off with Tom in tow.


	3. Not Quite Like "Misery"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Loki fan wants to smother Tom with love and kindess. He wouldn't mind so much if he wasn't being held against his will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact: This was my first RPF.

Usually when awaking from unconsciousness to find a smiling, pretty woman by one's bedside, it can be a source of comfort. Tom does not find that to be the case in this particular scenario. Perhaps it was the padded cuffs around both his wrists and ankles to restrain him to the bed. Perhaps it was the fact that he was only in an undershirt and briefs which implied that he had been stripped of his costume during his state of unconsciousness. Or perhaps (and this was probably the most important point to make) it was because the last time Tom had seen this woman, she had jogged up to him on the set, leapt on to his back like a monkey, and held on for dear life as she pressed some sweet smelling cloth over his nose and mouth.

He pulled on his wrist restraints in what he hoped was a subtle manner while maintaining eye contact with the cheeriest kidnapper ever. She reached a hand out tuck back a strand of his hair, but Tom eyed her dubiously and leaned as far away to the opposite side of the bed as he could manage. She was practically leaning over the bed rail and in his lap before she gave up. The woman contented herself by taking his hand in hers and patted it in what supposed to be a comforting gesture.

"I'm so glad you're awake now. I was afraid to wake you because you looked so peaceful, but at the same time I was starting to think that maybe I'd used a little too much chloroform." The matter-of-fact smile on her face as she said all these things unsettled Tom. "But now you're here, and you're safe!"

Tom tried to keep his voice from cracking as he asked, "Excuse me, but who the hell are you?"

Her grin faltered for a second at his tone but then widened to face splitting levels. She gestured to herself. "I'm Annie," she places a hand on his lap, "and I'm your biggest fan." She pats his lap after the last three words for emphasis.

An image of Kathy Bates smashing James Caan's foot runs through Tom's head, and he audibly gulps. Then she brings a spoonful of soup underneath his nose, and he eyes it suspiciously.

"Open wide!" Annie waved it before him like he was a stubborn child.

He did the opposite and pursed his lips into a thin line while looking back and forth between the spoon and Annie.

She brought the spoon to his closed lips. "You need it! You've got this lean, hungry look going on," she placed a hand on his side that made Tom bite back a giggle. That had always been a ticklish spot for him that Chris loved to exploit. Thinking of Chris made him attempt to wiggle away, but that proved unsuccessful.

"So some extra meat on the bones won't hurt one bit!" She squeezed his side for emphasis, and Tom hunched forward and produced a barking sort of laugh.

Annie took the opportunity to shove the spoon into his mouth. Tom swallowed it reflexively as his eyes widened in panic. Then the look in his eyes softened into one of pleasant surprise.

"That's actually really good," complimented the actor as Annie pulled the spoon out of his mouth.

Annie beamed. "It's a family recipe." This time when she offers the spoonful of soup, he does not think twice about opening up and swallowing.

Tom wondered if he was succumbing to Stockholm Syndrome. Any fear or trepidation he had initially felt was gone after the delicious soup and Annie's continued smothering (of kindness, that is). An itch on his nose that he couldn't quite reach because of his cuffs quickly reminded him though that he was a prisoner despite his comfy (literally) situation.

Annie saw him wrinkling his nose and reached forward to relieve him of his itch. He sighed and smiled in relief. He tried stretching out but was impeded by the leg restraints. Spotting the window stretching out at the foot of his bed, he got an idea.

"Well you were right about that soup being filling." He tried rubbing his belly, failed, and settled for making a weird circling motion with both of his hands while nodding his head in satisfaction. "You know what else might be good for me? A quick jaunt outside. Fresh air and sunshine could do me wonders." He made a flicking gesture to indicate all of him.

Annie made a dismissive gesture. "Psshh. Air pollution and skin cancer are what the outdoors will give you. If it's a change of scenery you need, I'm sure there's a wheelchair I can strap you down to..." She began looking around to see if there was one in the room.

Tom frowned at this denial of leaving the bed and tried another tactic. "What about using the restroom?"

Annie bent down and to his horror came back up with a bedpan. He never thought he would ever see someone shake one like it was a tambourine.

"U-ummm, I'm good. Th-thank you," stammered the actor.

Annie shrugged and put the bedpan back on the floor. She dragged a chair closer to his bedside and pulled out a book from some unknown place. The title caused Tom to do a double take.

"The Red Necklace?"

Annie nodded eagerly. "Yep! It's a nice little read, but I found that I enjoyed it being read to me. Of course, I won't be able to do nearly as good a job as the audiobook guy, Tom Hiddy-something, but I'll give it a shot."

Tom made a choking noise just as she opened the book. Annie leaped up and started smacking his back thinking something had gotten lodged there. Tom shook his head and sidled away. "I'm fine." Annie backed away and patiently waited for him to be done.

He examined her as she stared back at him. "Who exactly do you think I am?"

Annie started laughing as if the answer were obvious. She leaned forward in the last throes of her laugh and placed a hand on his shoulder. Her eyes sparkled as she answered, "Why you're Loki of course!"

Tom stared at her incredulously, at a loss for words. As if on cue, he heard the squealing of brakes and then the sound of metal grinding into something solid.

Annie's dash to the window then made him realize that those noises had not actually been the sounds of his brain crashing but were from an actual crash.  
He hoped that whoever was involved was okay. Annie's gasp made him think the worst only for her next words to raise his spirits unexpectedly.

"What's your brother doing here?!"

* * *

"What the hell are you doing!?" yelled Chris Evans as Chris Hemsworth slammed down on the gas pedal, and the car that he had been driving started to accelerate.

"Going faster," gritted out Hemsworth as his foot remained on top of Evans'.

"Well good job! You got it done so back off!" Thankfully the streets were clear, and their final destination was coming up quick, but Evans wanted to do it at a more reasonable pace.

"I c-can't," stammered Hemsworth.

"What do you mean you can't?!"

"My foot's stuck," admitted the Australian who was now quickly getting red-faced.

"See what happens when you try to channel Fast and the Furious!" scolded Evans as he shot a scathing look at Hemsworth. He turned the wheel suddenly, and they found themselves driving up a lane filled with trees with a ranch style house at the end. Evans tried slamming on the brakes, and though it was slowing them down, the car was not showing any signs of stopping.

"Well now I'm tapping my inner Paul Walker!" yelled Hemsworth as he grabbed the wheel and maneuvered the car into a spinning swerve. The car came to a halt as the back slammed into a tree planted in the lane. As Evans shook the stars out of his head, Hemsworth was already out of the car like a bolt and racing towards the house.

Evans caught up just in time to watch Hemsworth strip off his t-shirt, wrap it around his hand, and punch out the front window. Evans could only stutter in shock and watch as Hemsworth cleaned out the frame and climbed into the house.

"What the hell?!" was what he finally said. He peeked his head through the window to find Hemsworth prowling around like a shirtless burglar. "What do you think you're doing?" he hissed.

Hemsworth ignored him and started to call his co-star's name. "Tom? Tom!"

Before Evans could reprimand him again, a very familiar voice answered, "Chris! Chris, I'm in-mmph." The suddenness with which Tom's reply was cut off urged Hemsworth to rush down a hallway. Evans watched with wide eyes as Hemsworth picked a door and kicked at it twice before barging in.

"Somehow, I'm too old for this," whispered Evans hoarsely.

* * *

Chris had been pulling his hair out with endless scenarios the second Tom had disappeared. One idea was of hired thugs nabbing the man for a ransom job. Another was of a disgruntled person who held a grudge against Tom for some unfathomable reason. Whatever it was, Chris ultimately pictured Tom as scared out of his mind and tied up somewhere at the mercy of some greasy psycho.

The last thing he pictured was of Tom laying in a comfortable hospitable bed in a sunlit room with a petite woman who was firmly planted in front of the bed wielding a plastic chair with metal legs. Chris only had a few moments to comprehend this strange picture before said woman tried to swing the chair at him. He sidestepped the blow as the chair went flying towards the wall. The woman went scrambling after the chair, and Chris took the opportunity to get to Tom so that now their positions were reversed with the woman at the door and Chris planted firmly in front of Tom.

"You're not going to hurt him! No one's ever going to hurt him ever again!"

Her words struck a nerve with Chris. "There's no way I would ever dream of hurting him! It's impossible."

The woman scoffed at his claim. "Maybe intentionally, but I intend on keeping your brother away from any of your unintentional blundering."

Chris wanted to ask what Liam had to do with this, but the woman had raised her chair again poised to attack. Before she could, Chris Evans suddenly appeared behind the woman and jumped on top of her which sent the chair skittering. He wrestled her down as she tried wriggling away and looked up to give the two other actors a shaky, disbelieving grin. He backs this up with a shaky thumbs up.

Seeing that the other Chris had the woman secured, Chris turned his full attention to Tom at the same time Tom looked at him. Tom's eyes were wide and his breaths were coming in fast due to the past few minutes of excitement. Chris gently removed the napkin that had been forced into Tom's mouth and placed his palm on the Brit's cheek. He stared at him with the utmost concern.

"Are you okay?"

Tom nodded. "I will be once you get me out of here." He moved his hands and feet to illustrate his point.

"Oh yeah. Of course." Chris worked at the various cuffs and soon enough, Tom was a free man once again.

Tom inched towards the edge of the bed that was clear of a rail. Just as he was about to hop off, Chris has hands on both of his sides to assess if he is actually alright. Tom cannot contain his giggle, and he was soon laughing non-stop as Chris pursued the familiar ticklish spot. Satisfied that he was okay, Chris stopped and allowed Tom to catch his breath.

"I was only just kidnapped early this morning, you know. And by a very nice woman who fed me some wonderful soup. Hardly enough time to warrant such a grand rescue." His tone may be teasing, but his smile held a wealth of gratitude for the save.

Chris leaned forward to give him a quick kiss on the lips but kept his forehead pressed against Tom's as well as a hand intertwined with his. "Nothing can get in my way if I think you're in danger."

This time when they kiss they are both very mindful of the fact that Chris is very shirtless and that Tom is one easily removable layer away from matching him. They are also on a bed. As Chris reached down to the hem of Tom's undershirt with the intention of whipping it off, a faked cough reminded the two that they were not alone.

Evans had gotten himself and Annie to their feet. Annie's expression had morphed from one of anger to one of delight. "Awwwww! You really wouldn't hurt him!"

Both Chris's have a "no, duh" expression on their face while Tom muttered, "I'm still pressing charges."


	4. Lover's Spat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-[Late Night Urgant](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GIk4H9cj2Wk&feature=related), Jeremy gets to witness Chris and Tom quarrel and then make-up.

"How was it?" asks Scarlett as Jeremy breezes through her door and collapses on to her bed. He draws an arm over his eyes.

"Aside from the awkwardness of waiting for a joke to get translated to you? Really fuckin' weird."

Scarlett's brow rises questioningly. "How so?"

Jeremy withdraws his arm and sits up with a sigh. He then launches into a retelling of the interview. As he talks about the silences born from translation delays, Tom and Chris' schoolboy interactions, the embarrassing hammer game, and the weird hats, Scarlett's smile grows wider and wider until she bursts out laughing. Jeremy remains unamused.

"I'm sorry, but I'm sure you'll be able to appreciate the humor in it later," she remarks with a large grin.

"Oh, I'd be able to appreciate it right now if it weren't for the little lover's spat I got to endure afterwards."

Scarlett's smile dims, and she tilts her head at him questioningly. "What?"

Jeremy pinches the bridge of his nose and launches into his tale.

* * *

"Could you believe that guy?" asks Chris as he puffs out his cheeks, holds his arms and legs out in a curved fashion, and dances from foot to foot. He's like a gorilla.

Jeremy cracks a smile and cackles at the impression. He looks over to Tom and sees the Brit being uncharacteristically tight-lipped in the face of Chris' antics.

"But I got him," continues Chris. He mimes swinging a sledgehammer over his shoulder while keeping his gaze solely trained on Tom. "It's all in the technique, I guess. No offense, Jeremy." He continues his miming motion.

"None taken," says Jeremy as he continues to watch Tom and Chris' little stare off. No one says anything, and Jeremy shifts in place as the silence stretches out.

Tom finally speaks, but it's with an edge to his voice. "Well I take offense to being treated like some sort of butler. Maybe next time you can 'get' your own coat rack."

Jeremy feels his eyebrows shoot into his hairline, and his eyes dart about frantically for some way out of this. He really hopes that Chris at least glances at him once so that his facial expression can convey the world of trouble he has just walked into.

Chris tries to laugh, but the awkward chortle dies in his throat and become a choking sound. Tom continues to stare at Chris rather sternly, and it makes Jeremy think of all those teachers in elementary school who didn't take too kindly to his bullshit. Chris glances at him pleadingly, but he holds his hands up and takes a step back. No way is he getting into this mess.

Chris steps towards Tom and bends his head down, and now Jeremy just hears the rumble of the younger man's voice. Tom continues to glare at Chris, and Jeremy turns away to at least give the duo the illusion of privacy. He internally cringes at the words he does hear from the heated exchange.

* * *

"I've never been around two people who flash between acting like teens hopped up on hormones and an old married couple so quickly," complains Jeremy.

Scarlett pats his arm sympathetically. "Sounds like it made for an awkward car ride back."

His hand returns to rub the bridge of his nose as he appears to deflate a little. He drags his hand down his face while eying Scarlett intensely. "You have no idea. That analogy I just used? Well, it definitely happened again. I swear, Tom may be playing the guy with the silver tongue, but Hemsworth has something golden in his arsenal."

* * *

Jeremy thanks God that he has the front row of seats to himself so that he doesn't have to be a witness to the couple making up to each other. Or --more accurately-- Chris kissing Tom's ass to get back in his good graces. He does wish he had some ear plugs though.

"You're not--" a wet smack, "a piece--" a groan, "of furniture," rumbles Chris. He may have been trying to keep his voice down, but the shiver which permeates Jeremy says otherwise.

"That's damn straight," growls Tom with an unusual fierceness that Jeremy's not privy to unless he's in character.

He fiddles his thumbs and makes the mistake of glancing into the rearview mirror where he catches sight of Chris sprawled over Tom as he straddles the slimmer man. The Aussie's mouth trails wet kisses all along the other man's long throat, and Jeremy watches with wide eyes as the two men disappear from view as Chris pushes Tom down into the seats.

Jeremy clears his throat which does absolutely nothing. "Hey, you two. Maybe try to keep it in your pants 'til we get to the hotel. Wouldn't kill you to wait--"

Hiddleston's foot aggressively kicks him in the back of the head, and Jeremy holds his arms up in surrender without giving in to the impulse to whip around and smack him back. "All right! Shit. Have it your way."

* * *

Scarlett stares at the floor while trying to contain her laughter. "So uh," a snort escapes, "I take it they finished up in the car then?"

Jeremy shrugs his shoulders. "Probably still going at it for all I care. I mean, I hopped out as soon as we pulled up to the building. For all I know, Hemsworth caveman carried him up the service elevator."

Scarlett's eyes roam around the room conspiratorially, and her voice lowers to a whisper. "You do know Hemsworth's room is right next to mine, right?"

Jeremy leaps up and his head snaps around like an animal on alert. He even holds his breath as if listening for some intrusive sound. He soon breathes a sigh of relief. "Nothing." He briskly makes his way to the door. "And I'm going to keep it that way." He throws Scarlett a three-fingered salute. "See ya later."

She waves at him mockingly. "Asshole," she replies affectionately with a giant grin on her face.

The actress is only alone for about two minutes before urgent rapping is on her door. She opens the door only for Jeremy to burst in once more with hands over his ears as he chants nonsense words to himself before flinging himself on her bed.

"Back so soon?"

His response is muffled by the pillows so she cups one hand to her ear as if she is hard of hearing. "Sorry, you're going to have to speak up."

Jeremy lifts himself from the bed, and his face flushes from embarrassment.

"I forgot Hiddleston's next door to me and apparently, he's a screamer."

He buries his face into the pillows once more as Scarlett erupts into laughter.


	5. Lights! Camera! Make-Out!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They couldn't stop laughing during the first take. They had to fight their erections on the second. They didn't even hear Joss yelling "CUT" for the third.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted and written before Avengers was released so therefore contains an imaginary scene that never made it into the movie.

Upon seeing the section in question in the script, Tom spit-takes and laughs. An hour later, he receives a text from Chris.

_Seen the script yet?_

_Just did_

_You ready?_

Tom rolls his eyes and laughs good naturedly to himself before thumbing off a reply.

_It's just a kiss._

_I remember "just a kiss" starting this whole thing_

Tom smiles as he fondly recalls the memory.

_Well then let's not get too carried away then._

_I won't if you won't._

Tom stares at the words. He finally sends off a reply but doesn't feel like he'll actually adhere to it.

_Deal_

* * *

"So you guys know what you're doing?" asks Joss.

Tom nods and answers even if he feels the question is more rhetorical in nature than pre-cautionary. "I 'appear' in front of kiss, say my line, and give him a peck on the lips."

"And then I'm too stunned to respond which allows him to get a hit in before 'disappearing'," adds Chris.

Joss nods in approval and claps both men on the shoulders. "All right then." He looks around to the other crew members around the set. "Places everyone!" he shouts as he steps back to the camera.

The two actors position themselves as another voice yells for quiet on the set.

Right before Joss calls for the scene to start, Chris winks at Tom, and Tom cannot contain his smile.

Chris' eyes widen in shock as he catches sight of Tom. His golden complexion appears to dim as he drinks in the man before him.

"Brother?" he says in a choked whisper.

Tom gives him a hard glare and razor-edged smirk in return. "Miss me?"

He leans in for the kiss but just as his lips touch Chris', a wide grin breaks over the Aussies's face, and he starts chuckling. It proves to be infectious when Tom tries to stifle his own giggles behind his hands.

Soon enough, the two of them are leaning on the other as they give in to their laughter. When they finally wind down and straighten up, it is to find Joss watching them with a patient expression etched on to his face.

"You guys need any more time?"

The duo vigorously shakes their heads like two schoolboys caught doing something wrong.

"Okay. Then let's take it from the top."

Before Tom repositions himself, Chris leans forward to whisper in his ear, "I don't think I'll be able to our little agreement."

Tom catches the gleam in Chris' eye and hears himself gulp right before the call to action is made.

"Brother?" exhales Chris in disbelief.

"Miss me?" replies Tom sharply through a bitter smile.

As he leans in for the kiss, a hand at the back of his neck turns the simple peck into a prolonged crushing of lips. His eyes widen, and his lips slightly part in surprise which allows the presence of another tongue in his mouth. Chris does that amazing swirl thing, and Tom has to put a hand on the broader man's shoulder to steady himself as his knees rethink their strength. Chris takes this as his cue to pull away but not before suckling on Tom's bottom lip which elicits a quiet moan.

The two are suddenly aware of the quiet and turn their attention to Joss who is failing to suppress his own look of shock. He suddenly averts his eyes to some point beyond the duo's heads. "Umm, I'll just give you guys a few minutes to prep for the next take."

Tom reddens at the realization and internally curses his costume for not hiding it. He remembers Chris is in the same boat costume-wise, and a quick glance at the younger man's crotch indeed confirms they are in the same state of arousal.

"What was that?" hisses Tom as he pulls Chris off to the side.

Chris simply shrugs and doesn't have the gall to look embarassed. "Just got carried away, I guess."

Tom's eyebrows nearly shoot into his hairline. "Carried away? You were stirring things up!"

"And succeeding by the looks of it," replies Chris as he nods his head in appreciation of Tom's crotch with a playful smirk on his face.

Tom blushes and swats away the hand going for his hip.

"Not now!" he hisses. "Believe me. I'd love to continue but now's not the time."

"When then?" urges Chris with a decidedly more serious expression.

Before Tom can answer, a teamster interrupts their conversation. "Hey, umm, are you guys ready?"

The two actors stare at each other heatedly rather than answer. The tension builds in the silence until it feels as if both are holding their breath in anticipation. Chris is the first to move by nodding to the teamster and going to take his place on the set.

Tom stays rooted in place and clenches and unclenches his hands with a set to his jaw. He finally huffs and internally curses Chris for the spark he's ignited.

As he trudges over to his own mark, he catches Chris' questioning look. He recalls the terms of their text agreement, and he allows a smile to crack over his face as he gives the younger actor a curt nod.

Chris absolutely beans and jumps a little in anticipation.

"Action!"

Chris' smile vanishes and is replaced with a soft gasp as he registers Tom's presence. "Brother?" he questions with a hint of excitement.

Tom backs up a little before taking a running jump at Chris. He internalizes his sigh of relief as the younger actor sturdily grips his thighs and then his rear which allows Tom to wrap his legs around Chris' waist. He cups Chris' face between his hands and peers down at him with a most predatory grin. Chris returns the look with a dazed expression that Tom cannot decide is in-character or not. He doesn't care at this point.

"Miss me?" he whispers before crushing his lips to Chris'.

Tom's tongue eagerly invades Chris' mouth and is just as eagerly met by Chris'. He feels only one arm supporting his lower half as the other hand has found purchase in his hair, and his legs instinctively tighten their hold.

Tom is aware of movement before he feels a wall at his back. Any lingering thoughts of dignity and propriety disappear as the lone arm on his bottom half moves and knead his ass like dough. His yelp is swallowed whole by Chris who he can feel smiling against his lips.

Chris pulls away from his mouth and begins to pepper kisses along his jaw line. Tom arches his head back as much as he can to allow access to his neck. The wet warmth he feels leads him to unconsciously rut against Chris' body.

Chris responds by nipping at his throat which drives a guttural sound of pleasure from the Brit. Tom's arms slide around Chris' neck to push him even closer.

The two are wrapped around each other in a world of their own.

* * *

Joss splutters at the escalating amorous display. Yelling "Cut" seems to only invigorate them: Tom's new direction with the scene, Chris slamming Tom up against a set wall, the hair tugging, and now some mid-air humping.

He makes a slicing motion to the various boom mic and camera operators to get them to stop rolling. He rubs his temple and mentally runs over the other things on the filming schedule for today. He glances at the two actors, and they are still vigorously going at it.

"At least this'll make for some great bloopers," he mutters to no one in particular. "Or a nice Easter egg on the Blu-ray."


	6. Never Too Tired for a Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris and Tom have a Skype Date. Only problem is that it's about 3 in the morning in Tom's part of the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Steve" and "Wendy" are references to the infamous Loki'd video.

He only intends to rest his head for the few moments it takes for his laptop to call the other one across the globe. Next thing he knows, a familiar drawl gently calls his name from his speakers. 

"Tom? If you're too tired, we can always do this another time."

The offer spurs him from his doze, and he groans as consciousness descends. He lazily lifts his head and arches his back until he hears a crack. "No, no," he groans. "I've got it. Just," he stretches out his arms "give me a second to wake up."

When he finally gets his eyelids to open up, he is greeted with the sight of Chris filling up his laptop screen. He smiles, and Chris grins in return before leaning back from his camera. 

Tom props his chin in his hand and leans forward into his own screen. A latent yawn breaks through, and he quickly wipes away the moisture it leaves in his eyes with his other hand. 

"You look great like this, you know. It's utterly adorable."

Tom makes an undignified noise as another yawn descends upon him. "Bedhead and red eyes a turn on for you, eh?"

"On you they are," replies Chris as he mirrors Tom's position. 

They sit in content silence until Chris' eyes dart downward, and his eyebrows furrow together. "What time is it over there?"

"About three."

"In the morning!"

"No, you just caught me during my afternoon nap," deadpans Tom as he allows his head to drop more heavily into his hand.

Chris straightens up and scratches his neck nervously. "I really can call another time--"

"No," interrupts Tom with a sterness he would not have believed from his sleep-addled body. "I'm the one who determined the time knowing full well what time it would be on my side."

A look of longing flits through Chris' giving him that puppy-dog expression that kicks Tom in the gut. "I wish I was by your side right now."

Tom sighs. "Me too, mate. Me too."

They continue to exchange pleasantries and anecdotes for the next half-hour. Tom attempts to stave off his exhaustion, but as his head droops closer and closer to the screen, Chris calls him out. 

"Look, I should probably let you get your rest. How 'bout next time you call me when it's 3 AM on my side?"

Tom closes his eyes and slowly shakes his head as a lazy smile spreads across his face. "You can be a down right monster during the ungodly hours of the morning."

"True, but unfortunately, we won't be between the sheets."

Tom chuckles and licks his lips before rearranging his head to rest on top of his now folded arms. He stares at Chris who is staring back at him. He sighs again. "I hate saying goodbye."

"It's more of a 'til we meet again'," offers Chris.

"You cornball."

Chris tilts his head to the side and smirks. "What was that, Steve? I couldn't quite hear you over Wendy."

"I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Mmmm, sure." Chris continues to gaze at him fondly. "I'll let you get your sleep now."

Tom bolts up in his seat. "Wait," he calls out before the other man can close the chat. "Stay with me?"

"You need your--"

"What I need is you," states Tom. He bites his lower lip with sudden reticence. "Would you mind just staying online with me until I nod off?"

Chris' expression immediately softens, and Tom wants nothing more in this moment than to kiss him silly. He nods and answers, "Of course."

Tom smiles back and ruffles his hair before picking up his laptop and trudging over to his bed. He sets the laptop on his bedside dresser and then gets beneath the covers. Resting his head on the pile of pillows, he finds himself the recipient of another Hemsworth patented expression of fondness. 

"I really do wish I could be there with you."

"I don't doubt it," replies Tom through half-lidded eyes trying to stay open. The feel of the sheets wrapped around him and the pillows under his head usher him closer to the land of sleep. 

His arm reaches out, and he contends with having to stroke a laptop screen rather than his lover's face. "But not nearly as much as I do."

Chris presses a kiss to his fingers and touches them to the screen. Tom doesn't quite catch what Chris says next, but the pleasing timbre of his voice further lulls him to sleep. His dreams are rather pleasant that night.


	7. Nobody Puts Kristen in the Corner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the set of Snow White and the Huntsman, Kristen discovers a secret of Chris'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written before the unfortunate scandal. Slight edits to make it look less harsh with hindsight but still comes off as pretty harsh with hindsight.
> 
> The song is Mickey and Sylvia's Love is Strange. This story was basically inspired by [this](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yQUmA-F0rkg) scene from Dirty Dancing.

Tom is… precious. Yes, Kristen decides. Very precious. Eternally like a kid on Christmas, passion oozes from his pores. He is excitable, eloquent, and pretty damn enjoyable to be around. Admittedly, he was a bit much for her when Chris had introduced them, but along with his bucket loads of frenetic energy is a perceptive spirit. In a short amount of time, he manages to make her smile. And not the half-smirk that Charlize ribs her about, but a full-fledged grin that splits her face and shows off her teeth.

So Tom is awesome, and Kristen wouldn’t have minded spending more time getting to know him, but Chris seems to have staked a claim on the man’s free time as he whisks the Brit away after all the introductions and ice-breaking is done. The two appear to be great pals what with all the arm-slinging and poking as they walk away. It brings another smile—smaller this time—to her face.

What doesn’t make her smile is the grueling day she has just finished on set. Being an action heroine is fun, but the new aches and sores it brings to her body take getting used to. Not to be deterred, Kristen seeks out her favorite Australian after a break in filming. The lucky bastard isn’t on call today and is probably with Tom.

Approaching his trailer, she hears a funny sort of tune drifting out of it. It is a fun sort of rhythm one can’t help but sway to (actually, she could as dancing wasn’t one of her strong suits). An image of Chris’ hips swaying back and forth in grainy YouTube quality dances through her mind, and she grinds her teeth. Charlize has been teasing him about his dancing past ever since Sam had found the video, and of course, Chris refused to treat any of them to an encore. Apparently the same rules did not apply to Tom. Well she’d be damned if she was going to miss this rare opportunity!

“Hemsworth,” she mutters more to herself as she ripps open the door to his trailer. “You’re so—“ she stutters to a stop on his stairs with wide eyes at the scene before her. Apparently, Chris was dancing, but it wasn’t a solo performance. Slender fingers hooked behind a thick neck, and muscled arms wrapped intimately around a waist. Chris had been in the process of bringing Tom back up from a dip –though it wasn’t much of a dip as they’re bodies were so closely pressed together—and their faces were mere inches apart.

At her entrance, the two simultaneously push away from each other, but it’s too late. She’s already seen it.

“…busted,” she finishes lamely.

* * *

“So this is why you flipped out every time I so much as peeked over your shoulder during your Internet time,” muses Kristen as she sits on the bed in Chris’s trailer. “And I just thought you were looking at porn.”

Neither man cracks a smile at her attempt at levity. Chris continues to level her with a very intense gaze while Tom pats his shoulder comfortingly.

“You can’t tell anyone about this,” says Chris in all seriousness. “I don’t think any of us could deal with the PR fallout.”

“That goes without saying,” mumbles Kristen as she chews on her lower lip. It was quite the bombshell to find that Chris wasn’t cheating on his pregnant wife but that he, Elsa, and Tom were in a happy, balanced relationship. But this wasn’t something the trio was willing to divulge to the public just yet.

Seeing Tom’s hand tighten on Chris’ shoulder she continues, “Guys, you don’t have to worry. You forget who you’re talking to. I’m not one to go blabbing about other people’s lives.”

Tom rushes forward and envelopes her in a hug. “Thank you,” he breathes into her ear.

She pats him awkwardly on the back after a few moments. “No problem,” she muffles into his shoulder. He releases her, and she pantomimes zipping her mouth shut and tossing the key.

She eyes the couple as Chris straightens up –- burden now gone— and they hold hands with Tom’s thumb gently stroking Chris’ fingers. A multitude of questions flit through her mind such as how long this has been going on, who else knows about it, and what was the sex like. But one question persists above the rest due to the position she had discovered them in. She props her chin on her fist and asks with a raised eyebrow, “Were you guys re-enacting Dirty Dancing?”

Both men turn to each other with identical blushes on their face. Tom’s tongue pokes out between his teeth as he enacts what seems to be a nervous chuckle and soon enough, Chris’ own embarrassed laugh joins along.

“Hey, I’m sure that lift would be no problem for you guys,” explains Kristen. “And the thought of you guys crawling around the ground is priceless."

* * *

Kristen sidles up to Chris as he thumbs off a text. She tries to look over his massive shoulder but slouches back down as that would be rather impossible. A smile crawls over her face nonetheless, and she elbows him in the side.

“Is that to your sweet baby?” she asks in a sing-song voice.

Chris’ red face is all the answer she needs, and Sam is downright puzzled as Kristen bursts into laughter.


	8. Unintentional Bodyguard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom loves his fans, but sometimes their enthusiasm is a bit too much to handle. 
> 
>  
> 
> **TW: for attempted non-con**

"Hey, we didn't get to see the footage! How about you play it one more time?" The crowd at D23 roars in agreement with Robert Downey Jr's words. The actor raises an arm in a fist pump while the other one with the microphone remains by his mouth. "Come on! Play it again," rouses the charismatic actor.

As the lights finally dim in compliance, Hemsworth notes that Tom is near the edge of the stage. The Brit is crouched down still waving at fans. One girl in particular has captured Tom's attention by shouting his name in a stage whisper.

The fangirl's eyes widen comically as Tom reaches out to shake her outstretched hand. She trembles with excitement. In her overly enthused state, she yanks the actor towards her when his hand is finally within her grasp.

With most of his weight having been on the balls of his feet, Tom easily begins to pitch forward with a gasp. He is about to clear the stage when one strong arm hooks around his waist and yanks him back to more expanse of the stage. Another arm wraps around his chest protectively to pull him flush against another chest.

Tom releases some shaky breaths, and the arms slowly release him. Tom turns his head and is not surprised to see Chris H. standing right next to him. The younger man is avoiding eye contact but has grabbed Tom's hand to rub circles into it with the pad of his thumb. Tom smiles and looks up to watch the footage while the two of them hold hands.

When the lights come back on, no one has their phone or camera to capture the fact that Tom and Chris are still holding hands. As the actors are ushered off stage, not many people catch that Chris, who is filed behind Tom, has his hands on the Brit's waist. It becomes one of those hearsay things that everyone wants to believe, but no one can.

* * *

Tom releases a weary sigh as he enters his trailer. It has been a long day, and there is more to come. Thankfully, he can grab a nap before he is needed on set again. Unfortunately, he is not to take his costume off, but it is at least a sight more comfortable than the outfit he had in the last movie. He sits on the edge of his bed and gets his boots off before lying back and letting exhaustion take over.

He wakes up to a pressure on his legs and a tug on his wrists. He blearily opens his eyes to find that he must have rolled over in his sleep as his face is nestling the pillow. He rolls over on his side and hears a shriek right before a thud. Now wide awake, Tom tries to absorb the fact that there is a girl in his bathrobe sprawled on the floor of his trailer.

He tries sitting up but finds the process impeded by the fact that his hands are tied behinds his back, and he is going about it too frantically. He instead settles for sidling backwards to where the wall meets the mattress which is as far away from this girl as he can get.

"What the... H-how.. W-w-who..." Tom is slightly terrified beyond coherent speech.

The girl's face transforms into one of joy upon seeing him awake. "You're up! I wanted to wake you up earlier, but you looked so precious in your sleep." She stands up with what is now supposed to be a seductive leer. "That'll make this so much easier then." She unties the bathrobe to reveal her stark, nude body.

Tom clenches his eyes closed which is the wrong move as he feels himself being pulled from his self-imposed corner. He attempts to roll away again, but it is too late as the girl is straddling him.

He opens his eyes to find the girl gazing down at him. He attempts to throw her off, but she clamps down on his thighs like she's riding a mechanical bull. "What do you think you're doing?!" It is not often (if ever) that he has naked girls straddling him with his hand tied behind his back while he is in full costume (minus footwear).

"Attempting to have sex with you," she answers as if it is the most obvious thing in the world. Tom stills only to renew his efforts of dislodging her. She only grins at the effort as she maintains her position. "This is such a great sign of what's about to happen." She leans forward and cages his head between two arms before nuzzling at his neck. Unfortunately, his attempt to arch his head away from her just provides her with more room.

"I love this," she breathes into his neck. "I can't wait to have your babies." She has a hand on his pants and is trying to unfasten them. She frowns and leans back with frustration when they do not unbuckle easily. He has never been so thankful for the overly complicated design of his costume.

He is about to try bucking her off again when she reaches back and brings forward a weapon that he recognizes as his steak knife. He freezes in trepidation as she brings it to his pants with the intent of cutting away at them. He hears her murmur, "Why's it gotta be so fucking complicated?"

A knock on the door causes her to freeze in her tracks.

"Hey, Tom. You ready to go?"  
Tom's heart soars as he recognizes Hemsworth's voice, and he doesn't think twice to call out to this rescue line being thrown to him.

"CHRIS! THERE'S A WO-MMMMPH"

She clamps a hand over his mouth, but the urgency of his message got through because Chris is bursting through the door, and Tom thinks he will never look more like a superhero then he does now with the light from outside enhancing his silhouette as well as the red of his cloak. The woman whips her head around and gapes at the sight.

All Chris sees is a naked person with a knife in hand straddling a struggling Tom, and it is enough to have him surging forward. Taking advantage of the girl's stock stillness, Tom finally dislodges her with a particularly violent hip thrust. Before she can spring up again, Chris is smothering and restraining her in the bathrobe.

He manages to disarm her and holds her writhing form while shooting a concerned look to Tom."Are you okay?"

Tom manages to nod wordlessly.

Momentarily satisfied, Chris wrestles the woman out of the trailer, and it seems like an eternity before he returns. By that time, Tom manages to sit up and is perched on the edge of his bed with his hands still tied behind his back. Chris spies the discarded knife and picks it up before taking a seat next to Tom.

He holds the knife out for Tom to see. "May I?"

Tom turns so that Chris can have easier access to his bound hands. "I insist."

With a few saws, Tom's hands are free from their restraints, and he turns to face Chris only for the other actor to take his wrists into his hands to soothingly rub them. Tom looks up to see that Chris is staring intently at him. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Tom does not know how to answer so he says nothing. Chris seems to understand and continues to rub his wrists. Eventually, Tom rests his head against Chris' shoulder, and Chris has taken to stroking the back of Tom's neck.

No one is around to witness the intimacy of the moment and what happens from there. Neither of them care when they finally show up to set and are lectured for their mussed hair and rumpled costumes. Fortunately, no one had missed Chris wrangling a stranger in a bath robe towards security so the lecture is not nearly as scolding as it could be. No one comments on how Chris rubs Tom's back during takes.

* * *

Tom and Chris walk companionably down the street in New York. Tom has just wrapped NY Comic Con and was enjoying a free day before being whisked off to his next thing. Chris was in town also enjoying some downtime, and so the two had decided to meet up just to hang out before work separated them.

Tom marvels at Chris' new hair color.

"It's just so strange," remarks Tom as he fingers a strand of brown hair.

Chris smiles before playfully swatting Tom's hand away.

"Look who's talking," he counters as he twined his fingers through Tom's black curls.

This action prompted Tom to laugh. "Well at this point, people seem to be more surprised when they see my natural hair color."

Chris' smile widened, and his hand lowered from fingering Tom's hair to massaging the nape of his neck. Tom responded favorably to the touch by backing into it and after that, Chris' arms is just slung casually around Tom's shoulders while Tom sidled closer to Chris.

"You know," said Tom breaking the comfortable silence, "I never got to properly thank you."

Chris halts in place right before they are to descend a flight of stairs and raises a questioning eyebrow. "For what?"

Before Tom can answer, the two turn around due to an unnatural noise. What they find is a mob of squealing teenage and young adult females making a beeline for the duo. And it's not so much squealing as an overly long overemphasis on the latter syllable of 'Loki'.

Seeing the mob that is about to overwhelm them has Tom taking an instinctive step backwards. He has forgotten about the stairwell right behind him. Footing lost he sees reflected in the faces of the fangirls (whose squees of joy have transformed into cries of terror) that he is about to take a nasty tumble.

Then miraculously, Chris grabs his hand, pulls him forward, and pushes him behind his broader frame all in one fluid motion. Chris twists his own arm behind himself to secure Tom while the other arm motions for the mob to stop and back up a few paces.

"Now now, ladies. I think pictures and autographs work better if he's in one piece." Chris sounds like he is humoring them, but Tom hears the underlying warning. He laughs from behind the shield that is Chris' body and when the crowd of women has calmed down, the two oblige in pictures and autographs.

"That's what I'm talking about," remarks Tom as the last pair of girls giddily skip away. The same questioning look Chris had worn earlier prompts Tom to continue. "You're the best bodyguard I never knew I needed and next to belting out an old Dolly Parton song, I don't know how to thank you properly."

Chris smile. "Keeping you safe and alive is reward enough."

Tom motions dismissively. "Well, yes, but there has to be something else."

Chris soaks in Tom's eager energy and feels nothing but warm regard for this other man before him. His hand snakes behind the Brit's head while the other rests around his waist to pull him closer. Chris' smile turned a bit devilish at the widening of Tom's eyes.

"Oh, I can think of something," her murmurs right before pushing his head in for a kiss.

Tom gasped at this most public display which allowed Chris to slip in his tongue. Tom's eyes fluttered closed, his arms wrapped around Chris' neck, and soon both men were smiling into the kiss completely oblivious to all around them.

They were so into their little PDA that they failed to notice a fangirl who had snuck back to giddily snap a picture on her smartphone. The picture of the two male stars of Thor making out is on the Internet in less than two minutes. Both livejournal and tumblr suffer from collective meltdowns.


	9. Professional Jealousy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some accidents on the set of _Thor_ turn out to be the work of a disgruntled indivdual who has it in for Tom.

Tom rubbed the back of his neck and rested his head against the back of his seat before he released a long sigh.

"Rough day on set?" His driver threw questioning glances at him via the rearview mirror.

"There was another incident," explained the actor.

The driver whistled. "What is that? The fifth one in uhh—"

"Two weeks," finished Tom.

"What was it this time?"

"One of the studio lights fell." Closing his eyes, he remembered how Chris urgently yanked him forward right before a loud crash sounded off from behind him. He had looked behind him to see a large studio light that had landed where he had been standing.

"Damn. Hey, haven't you been around for all five of them?"

Tom sat up at that question. Thinking about it, he had.

Last week had been the first incident. During the vault confrontation scene between himself and Anthony, the stairs had been very slick. Tom experienced this first hand when he had gone careening forward after going up the stairs right before the take. Fortunately, he caught himself, and it was cleaned up before Anthony could take a tumble as well.

The second accident followed a few days later. The horses they were working with had started to act up. In particular was Tom's horse who seemed adamant on dismounting the actor by constantly rearing up on its hind legs. When Tom had gotten off, Ray pulled him back in time before the horse could kick him.

The third incident was the most notable. A piece of the Jotunnheim set had fallen, and he had managed to roll out of the way as the piece of plaster and wood smashed to the ground.

Number four had occurred two days ago. He and Chris were standing in front of a fire pit construct doing a scene where Chris received his winged helmet. The pit had flared up not just unexpectedly but larger than what was safe. He was aware that Chris' arm had thrust out in front of him as the two of them hurriedly backed up.

Then of course had been today's incident.

Tom finally nodded in a daze. "Yeah, I have."

The driver shook his head. "That's some crap luck you've got there."

"Yeah. Well at least I'm done for the day."

The driver nodded. Soon, he pulled to a stop in front of Tom's building. "Have a nice day."

Tom waved as he got out. "Thanks."

He made his way around the corner and upstairs to where his rented apartment was. He dug the keys out of his pocket and just as he unlocked the door and pushed it open, he heard a rustling noise come from the hedge by his door.

Before he could turn his head towards the noise, he felt something cold and round being shoved into the back of his neck.

"Hands up," instructed an accented voice devoid of warmth.

"I-I d-don't have any money on me," informed Tom as he raised his hands to the level of his head. The familiar tendrils of panic begin to overtake him as he is put in a painfully familiar situation.

Tom felt dread well up in his stomach as something cold and metallic encircled one of his wrists which was then yanked down. The other one soon joined it in the handcuffs.

"That's not what I'm after," gritted the stranger. Tom was shoved through the door of his own apartment. Before he could turn to look at this mystery assailant, something smashed into the back of his head. The floor came up to meet him as he blacked out.

* * *

Jaimie came running up to Chris out of breath and with a flushed face.

"Where's Tom?"

"Um, he basically left right after we were given the go ahead. Got into a car right after changing out of his costume about," he tilted his head back and forth as he thought it out, "fifteen minutes ago." The Australian took in his co-star's breathless appearance. "Why?"

"I overheard one of the electricians talking about the light. They were saying that the cord was sliced as if it had been cut."

Chris' eyebrows rose, and his jaw tightened. "You're saying this was deliberate! That thing could've killed Tom!"

"Just like some of the other accidents," remarked Jaimie. Chris' confused look prompted her to keep explaining. "Don't you think it's strange how every accident has almost directly affected him?"

"Specific sabotage? Like someone's out to get him?" Chris' eyebrows furrowed together at the thought.

"Exactly," replied Jaimie. "And given how each incident has escalated there's a chance that whoever this is could go after Tom off set."

Chris leaped from his chair poised to go. "What are we waiting for?"

Jaimie rapidly blinked at his readiness. "I don't know where he's staying."

"I do. I just need someone else to drive."

"Well I can do that."

Plan in motion, the two set off after Tom.

* * *

As Tom came to, he felt himself slowly spinning as something was wrapped around his chest. He slowly opened his eyes to find a man he had never seen before at his side and ripping off a roll of duct tape. Whatever lump had formed on the back of his head was now throbbing, and he groaned in response.

This caught the man's attention, and he drew himself to his full height which happened to be quite tall (probably around Tom's own height). He eyed Tom with a hard look and tucked a lock of his own unruly brown hair behind his ear.

"Oh good. You're awake," the man commented with a smile that split his face while making Tom feel even more uneasy. Without warning, the intruder punched Tom across the face.

The blow jerked Tom's head to the side, and as the stars cleared from his eyes, he noted that the room was lazily moving. Once he planted his feet down, he noted several things: his hands were still cuffed behind him, his ankles had been taped together, and he was taped to a spinning chair with copious amounts of tape around his upper body. It was a minor comfort to know that it was the actual chair rather than some trauma to his brain that was causing the spinning.

Just as he shook out his head, he received a punch to the gut. He could only groan and lean his head forward as the tape kept him from reacting like he wanted. From the corner of his teary eyes, he could see that this man was gearing up for another punch.

"Wait," he choked out. The intruder actually faltered, so Tom hurried on. "Just take whatever you want. I don't have many valuables," he moved his head around to signify the room, "but I'm sure you can find something. You can be gone before anyone comes, and I'll probably forget your face and--"

The assailant's bitter laughter cut off Tom's rambling before he smashed another fist against Tom's face. "That's rich," barked out the man in a reedy voice. "You," he backhanded Tom, "talking to me about thievery."

Tom looked at him with dazed eyes. "I'm sorry, but I've never even seen you before in my life much less know what you're talking about."

The man's eyes narrowed. "Of course you wouldn't," he reached behind him and pulled out a gun. Tom's eyes widened, and he gulped as it was shoved against his forehead. "But you will now. Winter of 2007 leading into 2008. Ring any bells?"

Tom slowly shook his head only for the gun could be withdrawn so another vicious punch could be delivered to his face.

The man leaned into Tom's space with a sadistic smirk tugging on his lips. "Did that jog your memory?"

Tom gathered the blood and saliva pooling in his mouth and spat at the man's face.

His captor's face twisted in rage, and in retaliation he punched Tom in the stomach again. "I'll take that as a no," he said as he wiped his face. He gripped Tom's chin up which forced the actor to look the man in the eye. "Well let me refresh it then." He threw Tom's head back causing the chair to roll back, and he began to pace the room.

"Casting for Wallander is under way and wonder of wonders, I get a callback! I come in and do a screen test. The energy was particularly fantastic after I was done. I must have it in the bag!" He threw his hands in the air in jubilation.

The maniacal grin the mad had donned as he said all this soon darkened as he looked at Tom. "And then.... nothing. The next I hear of the project is when I see and advertisement for it on the telly." He stalked closer to Tom like a predator about to pounce. "I watch the show out of curiosity, and who do you think I see in the role of Magnus Martinsson?"

Tom leveled him with a stony gaze and did not answer.

The man harshly prodded him in the shoulder with the gun. "Come on."

"Me," answered Tom quietly.

The man nodded condescendingly. "And why do you think that is?"

Tom remained silent again and earned a slap for his troubles.

"Go ahead and guess why you got that role."

"Because they thought I was a better fit for the character," bit back Tom.

His captor laughed bitterly in his face. "Really? You're going to play that game with me?" He shook his head. "No. No, you got that role because you're a whorish little cocksucker."

Tom's brows drew together in utmost confusion. "What?!"

The bitter man wagged a finger at him. "Don't act so coy. I have you all figured out. You're Kenneth Branagh's personal little butt boy."

Tom spluttered at the ludicrousness of the statement. Before he could rebut this, the man was drawing out a length of duct tape and had wrapped it around his mouth as he tried to move away. He glared at the man when he patted his cheek mockingly.

"It's been going on for a few years from what I've calculated. You must have offered yourself up back when the both of you did that short film together. From there on in, you had your hooks sunk into him just waiting for the day when you could get a plum role. So obviously when Wallander comes around, you ring him up and remind him of what a great fuck you are and how great it would be to be on set with him. And there you go and steal the role from more deserving actors." He drove his fist into Tom's stomach which produced a grunt.

"But you just could not leave it at that. You needed to make yourself known stateside. It so happened that Mr. Branagh is directing a big budget Hollywood film and look who gets cast first." He tapped the barrel against Tom's cheek. "What's it like, hmmm? Slurping him up with that mouth of yours?"

Tom could only stare at him in disbelief. The gag muffled any protests that he had.

"Doesn't matter because I'm going to put an end to it. You've been able to avoid everything I've thrown at you these past two weeks, but you can't escape a bullet."

Before Tom could try to move away, the man had fisted his hand in his hair and jerked it back. "So where should I shoot?" He traced the gun along the outline of Tom's lips. "I could effectively end your career by blasting this off." His eyes narrowed, and he smirked. "Or maybe..."

Tom stiffened as he felt the gun press against his manhood.”I'll just ruin you for any other lover." His breathing quickened as he heard the click of the gun.

The man leaned in close to eat up the fear that Tom was exuding.

There was suddenly an urgent knocking at the door which drew the gunman's attention away from Tom. Raised voices could be heard on the other side.

Taking advantage of the man's lapsed attention and relaxed grip on his hair, Tom craned his head back as much as he could. When the gunman turned back to face him, Tom head butted him as hard as he could.

The man staggered back, and Tom was proud to see that the man was clutching his nose which was bleeding profusely. "FUCK! AGH!"

As the man's hand slapped him again, he heard a loud several thuds preceeding . As Tom faced forward, he was rewarded with the sight of Chris looking back at him in horror. He watched Chris' face go through a somersault of emotions as the horror transformed into righteous fury upon seeing the gunman. That fury was then quickly replaced by shock, and Chris went ducking to the floor as a shot rang out.

Chris scrambled for cover as the gunman carefully took aim at him. Just as the man was about to fire again, Tom drew his legs back as much as he could and kicked out at him.

The man stumbled forward, and the shot went wide. He whipped around with an enraged look, and Tom quickly pushed his legs out to try and roll out of the way as much as he could. A searing, blinding pain in his arm told him that he had not been fast enough. He tried to suck as much air as he could through his nostrils and felt the collar of his shirt being grabbed so that he was jerkily rolled forward.

When his vision cleared, he saw that the gun was once more in front of his face. From the corner of his eyes, Chris was now just an arm's length away but had halted in his tracks. The look of fear on the younger man's face seemed so out of place.

The gunman looked between the two men and chuckled darkly. He then shoved the gun into Tom's forehead forcing it uncomfortably back. "Oh, I see. It's not enough for you to be wrapped around Branagh's dick while he's wrapped around your finger. You've also got this rising star plow into you." The disgruntled man gritted his teeth into a snarl. "I should just end you right n--"

"Aaahhhhh!!!" screamed Jaimie as she smashed a barstool against the gunman's head. It connected solidly and made an odd noise. The man flew away from Tom from the force of the blow and landed in a crumpled heap on the floor. Jaimie kicked the gun away and poised the stool like it was a bat in the off chance that the man on the ground should stir. She nudged him with a toe, but the man did not respond aside from the slow rise of his body as he breathed.

Satisfied with the state of his unconsciousness, she turned to Tom to see that Chris was already at his side. The younger man gingerly peeled away at the tape covering Tom’s mouth.

“Slow breaths,” instructed Chris. “Come on. In through your nose and out your mouth.” As Tom tried to do this, Chris scanned his body to find where he had been shot. The blood covering the duct tape along his upper arm was answer enough. He absentmindedly touched it just for Tom to hiss out in pain. “Sorry, mate,” apologized Chris quickly.

“You’re going to need this,” spoke up Jaimie. She held out a steak knife, and Chris muttered his thanks before taking it from her.

He started cutting away at the duct tape and would systematically peel it away. He made sure to be careful when it came to the tape around the bullet wound, but he didn’t miss the way Tom would wince.

“He cuffed my hands,” said Tom after the duct tape was gone.

Jaimie rifled through the man’s pockets and soon tossed a pair of keys to Chris. He unlocked the cuffs from around Tom’s wrists, and in turn threw the cuffs to Jaimie. As she cuffed the assailant’s hands behind his back, they could all hear sirens in the distance.

“Thank goodness,” exclaimed Jaimie.

“When did you call the authorities?” Tom asked. He tried to rise out of the chair, but Chris’ heavy hand on his shoulder on the uninjured side kept him seated.

“I’d imagine the gunshots did the job for us,” responded Jaimie. “Hopefully an ambulance is coming with them.”

Chris inspected Tom’s face. “He pulled a real nasty number on you, mate.”

“Just a few punches. Nothing major,” feebly joked the Brit. “It’s really just my arm that needs attending to.” He closed his eyes as a wave of exhaustion overtook him. “But first I’d like to sleep.” This desire was intensified by the hand he could feel threading through his hair. A hand that soon came across the large bump his assailant had given him.

Now the hand that hadn’t left his shoulder was gently shaking him as the other hand remained cupped behind the lump.

“Tom. Tom! You need to stay awake.”

He slowly opened his eyes to find Chris peering at him with the utmost concern.

"What's wrong?" asked Jaimie.

"He might have a concussion," replied Chris as he maintained eye contact with Tom. Jaimie's eyes widened in concern. Chris gave Tom another gentle prod as the Brit's eyes threatened to close again. "Come on, Tom! Stay with us."

"If you say so," he replied in a voice that was a bit more slurred than usual.

Chris and Jaimie tried their best to keep him awake as the sirens that signaled help sounded closer and closer.

* * *

Tom could feel Chris staring at his gauzed up arm. Though they were only sitting a breath’s width away from one another, the Aussie held himself as if the Brit would shatter from the slightest touch. There was an uneasy tension that Tom wanted to clear.

He shifted so that he was facing the younger man. “It was just a graze,” said Tom in a matter of fact tone that broke the silence.

The younger man slightly jumped at the comment, and his eyes finally met Tom’s. They seemed to be filled with guilt, and he faced Tom in a way that was supposed to come off as casual but was actually very purposeful.

“Yeah, a graze. Which means a few more inches and…” His eyes drifted off along with his thoughts.

Tom grasped one of Chris’ hands to summon his attention. “Well then it’s a good thing it missed.” He patted his hand reassuringly and gave him a smile. “And thank you once again for the rescue. It was brilliant,” he said gratefully.

Chris made a dismissive noise. “No. Jaimie was brilliant. She’s the one who figured it all out, and she even took the bastard down.” He ran a hand through his hair. “All I did was bumble in there and freeze up at the most inconvenient moment. I almost got you killed.”

“That wasn’t your fault,” snapped Tom in a serious tone that startled Chris and seemed to shake him out of his sorry state. “There really was nothing you could have done in the moment aside from joining me in getting shot. And trust me when I say that he was well on his way to doing that before the two of you showed up.” He gestured at his face.  
Chris could not suppress his flinch as he took in the injury done to Tom’s face. His cheek was a brilliant array of purple with specks of red and tinges of yellow at the edges. His head was bandaged because of the blow he had received from the gunman. Without thinking, the younger man brought a hand to Tom’s cheek and let his knuckles graze over the bruises. Tom instinctively leaned into the touch.

“I don’t understand why he would do all of this,” muttered Chris.

Now it was Tom’s turn to break eye contact as he looked down at the hand that was still held between both of his. He took a deep breath. “I’m afraid that you do as he assumed that you were a victim of my seductive web,” he explained with a weird emphasis on the last two words.

Chris’ hand lowered to the back of his neck. “He thought you were a casting couch situation?” he asked incredulously.

Tom shrugged while continuing to avoid eye contact. “Among other things.”

Chris’ hand lowered once more for it to clasp over the hands that were holding his other one. He raised them slightly which got Tom to reinitiate eye contact. His eyes were blazing. “That’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard,” stated Chris in the most authoritative voice Tom had ever heard him muster. “It’s obvious that any roles you’ve gotten are on account of your talent which you’ve got loads of. You’ve earned every single one,” he assured while earnestly rubbing Tom's hands.

“But what about the fact that I have worked with Ken before and part of why I was casted was because of our previous working relationship?" questioned Tom. "Some people are going to question it and call favoritism and-”

“Fuck them,” interrupted Chris. “Like you just said, it’s a working relationship. No different from countless others. Ken picked you because he knew you would deliver, and he's right on the nose about that. Most of those naysayers are just jealous.” He tightened his grip on Tom’s hands. “And should any of them act on it, we’ll just make sure to have Jaimie and a barstool handy.”

Anyone else would have mistaken Chris’ smile for lighthearted, but Tom knew it really meant, ‘And then I’ll make sure to dismember them.’ Tom returned the smile with a tentative one of his own. It was nice know that your boyfriend not only believed in you but would defend you and your reputation.

“I do want to clear up that I’ve never been involved with Ken in that way. Yes, we’re friends, and I owe him so much, but we’ve never--”

Chris cut him off with a quick kiss. “You don’t have to explain.”

Tom looked at him sheepishly. “So you’re not jealous?”

Chris chuckled in amusement. “Of Ken?”

The Brit gave a small nod.

The Aussie’s face became contemplative for a moment before answering. “Maybe of his career and the prestige he has, but I’m not going to be jealous over things that aren’t true.” He gently cupped Tom’s uninjured cheek which brought a genuine smile to the older man’s face. “If anything, he should be envious of me,” remarked Chris before bringing his face closer for another kiss.

Tom’s eyes fluttered closed as the kiss started to deepen with Chris’ tongue sweeping the cavern of his mouth. In the midst of this sensuous moment, he couldn’t help but think that the reverse could also be true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The "painfully familiar situation" is a reference to the time Tom was mugged in real life. To my knowledge, he's only mentioned it once in an interview.


	10. Touch and Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom's friendliness and curious nature get him abducted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to accuse this of being a rehash of "Norse God".

Tom exits the building through the back door and breathes in the fresh air. The room had been getting rather stifling, and he had just felt the need to leave. The line of well-wishers and congratulators overwhelmed him, so he sought the opportunity to go out and collect himself. Some alone time.

'Well, maybe not completely alone,' he concedes to himself as he leans his head against the wall. While drifting towards the exit, he had attempted to catch Hemsworth's eye, but his co-star was surrounded by his own posse of well-wishers. So with a quick word to his assistant, Luke, he slips away by himself.

He revels in the slight chill of the LA air and closes his eyes for a few moments. Feeling collected, he looks around the area, and sees that he's managed to get all the way to a back alley behind the hotel.

He catches sight of a nearby man who grumbles over his beat-up looking van. The man runs a hand through his sparse hair before kicking the tire in frustration. The action causes him to jump up and down and curse loudly while clutching the foot.

Always the curious friendly sort, Tom makes his way over to help in any way he can. The man latches on to the proffered help with a weary smile and a plethora of compliments.

It's just a flat tire, and the work goes quickly with the two of them going at it. The man takes the opportunity to pour out his life story. Apparently, he's had a string of bad luck in the form of money problems. He doesn't have a job at the moment, and all he's really got left in this world is the "piece of shit" van that has now decided to go flat on him.

Tom listens sympathetically and nods along. He knows how people sometimes just need to unload without any feedback. Eventually, the man is done talking and prods Tom for info-- stemming from the fact that Tom's wearing such a nice suit in the middle of this slummy alley. Being the friendly chatty type, Tom can't help but overshare. He informs him of how he happens to be an actor, and he's just run-out on his own premiere for a bit of a breather.

"Oh yeah? What movie?"

Tom chuckles and rubs the back of his head forgetful of the grease all over his hands. He grimaces at the feel of it and wipes it off on a discarded piece of cardboard nearby. "The Avengers," he answers absentmindedly.

The man freezes in the process of putting the tire iron in the back of the van. "You mean that movie with all those big ass billboards all over town?"

"The very one," replies Tom as he repeats the process of trying to clean off his hands. "I mean I wouldn't of dreamed of it years ago, but that's life, eh. Throws you little twists and turns, and you just have to keep going for it, you know?"

"Definitely," says the guy with a slight crack in his voice.

And that's the last thing Tom hears before something smashes into the back of his head, and he collapses into unconsciousness.

* * *

Chris gives up on looking for Tom after having searched every bathroom three times over. Asking Luke every 10 minutes does him no favors either. He tries enjoying the rest of the premiere party but can't fully get back into the swing of things with the knowledge that he hasn't seen his co-star for the past hour.

He finally calls it a night as the world tour the cast is about to embark on takes off in two days. It's as he's waiting for an elevator in the hotel lobby that Luke approaches him. Tom' assistant is pale-faced, and his eyes are wide with shock.

"I just got a call," he blurts without being prompted. He gulps nervously. "Tom's been abducted."

* * *

It should go without saying that this is the most surreal and terrifying experience of Tom's life. A small part of his mind is flattered that he's supposedly come so far that he would be considered an asset to someone. Then the rational part of his brain screams that he's in a potentially life-endangering situation. The fear he feels now immediately overshadows all of those initial fears he first felt when he first pursued acting and embarked on that journey all those years ago.

A good portion of his fears come from the fact that he literally has no idea what is going on around him. Strips of duct tape have been placed over his mouth and eyes, and he's also been bound hand and foot with the stuff. After awaking to a world of groggy pain, all he can do is roll around helplessly in the back of the van as his captor drives to who knows where.

Eventually, he slides forward a bit as the van comes to a stop, and he feels the vehicle shudder as the engine switches off. He feels the presence of his abductor leaning over him and inches away from that until his back hits something.

He hears a clicking noise signaling the sound of a camera phone taking pictures and realizes that this man also has his phone. He panics a bit more at the thought of who's going to be the recipient of these pictures of him.

Tom shouts as the guy rips the tape off, and he actually has the gaul to apologize not just for that but for the whole kidnapping scenario. The guy justifies it with something about "tough times calling for desperate measures", and Tom chooses not to dignify this with a response and instead chooses to purse his lips together into a thin line.

"So, uh, whose leg I gotta hump to get a decent ransom?"

The silence that ensues is not from a desire to be non-compliant but because Tom genuinely mulls over a proper answer. His family and friends back home are immediately out of the question as a good portion of them probably don't have access to the funds this guy is after, and he doesn't want to worry them at this moment. It registers that reaching Feige, Joss, or some other corporate big wig would be more appropriate, but he doesn't have any of their numbers. Then it occurs to him as to who should be called to relay the message.

"Windsor," he finally replies with a lick of his chapped lips. "Luke Windsor."

Soon enough, he gets to listen to one side of a conversation which consists of vague threats to his personal well being and a demand for 5 million dollars. He emphasizes that there are to be zero cops there. The phone then gets pressed against Tom's head, and he gets an earful of a frantic Luke asking if he's all right. He replies in the affirmative trying to assure him that he's fine for the most part save for a killer headache and possibly some bumps and bruises. He gets a punch in the gut for this answer, and his kidnapper yanks the phone away to nail down a time and location for the drop off tomorrow.

"You got a preference for who you want droppin' it off?"

Tom groans from his curled up position on the floor and answers without really thinking. "Chris Hemsworth."

* * *

The only thing keeping Chris from immediately racing off to the drop-off spot is that he doesn't have the money. While he has recently come into a better payday in recent years, it's nowhere near enough to pay the ransom himself. He could drain his bank account (and he would for Tom), but Luke shoots down that idea by informing him that the best step is to infrom the studio heads.

Soon enough, the whole cast knows about it, and an impromptu meeting assembles in the lobby. After the shock subsides, inquiries are made as the validity of this claim (which upsets Chris a lot as this distracts from moving forward). Luke informs everyone that he managed to record the phone call, and everyone listens to a gruff voice making various threats and demands. Chris' heart clenches when Tom's voice comes on the line only for it to crumble when he hears the pain-filled grunt. He is in danger of renting the couch cushions in two as he tries to contain his rising anger.

A small part of him warms at the fact that Tom chose him to deliver the ransom. It'll make it that much easier to beat the nameless kidnapper within an inch of his life.

The recording does the trick for the non-believers. Wrestling up the ransom is not difficult among the gathered throng of people. What's surprising is that it comes from the other actors rather than the studio. The studio representatives present say that it'll be a lot of red tape trying to get the money on time from corporate. But with people like Samuel L. Jackson and Robert Downey Jr. in your cast, collecting that particular sum is no big deal.

The next decision is to call the cops. Some rage at this decision (particularly Chris, who fears what this will do to Tom's safety), but it is firmly decided on as they know how to actually proceed in such a case. It's also better to take a risk in apprehending the guy on the spot rather than let him go free where he might strike again.

When the police come, they get straight to business. They usher out those who aren't intimately involved (after all of the cast make Chris swear that he gives up details). One of the first things they do is try and track Tom's cell phone. Unfortunately, this is a bust when the device is found abandoned in a dumpster thirty miles away from the hotel where the party was.

The next thing they do is prep Chris for what needs to be done tomorrow. They'll be nearby when the drop is made and best case scenario is nabbing the perpetrator right on the spot. Chris remains optimistic by not asking what a worst case scenario is. He'll be outfitted with a wire, and they make it clear that under no circumstances is he to antagonize the kidnapper. This basically means to not take any action into his own hands. He's not too happy with this rule but eventually gives them a terse nod to show that he understands.

The order is given for him to rest, but all Chris can do is sit on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands. A buzz of his phone distracts him and out of habit he checks it. He freezes upon seeing that Tom is the sender. Quickly opening it up, his insides go cold as he reads the message clearly not from his co-star: _He's fine for now, but you'll get him back when I get mine._

Chris' insides nearly freeze over as he opens up the attachment and is hit with two pictures of a bound and helpless Tom. The gall of this kidnapper has him violently throwing his phone at the wall, regardless of whatever damage will be done to either item.

Rubbing his hands over his face, he sighs through gritted teeth. "On my life, Tom, I'm getting you back tomorrow."

* * *

Tom wriggles in the shag covering of the front seat and gets a slap to the face for his troubles.

"Jesus! Hold still, goddamn it!" commands his captor. Tom feels a tug around his midsection and wonders how much duct tape this man could possibly have. His shoulders have been securely fastened to the seat with the stuff, and when he hears the rip of the tape, he finds his whole upper body to be pressed firmly against the seat. The awkward sensation of his numb hands behind his back add to the discomfort.

A whining noise escapes his throat, and this earns an annoyed grunt in response.

"Come on, man. Just work with me a little while longer."

Tom mutters something biting in return (which is of course muffled by the tape) and would eye the man with disdain if not for the strip of tape blinding him.

Mistaking the tone of his muffled speech, Tom feels a pat on his knees which he would very much like to shake off.

"That's the spirt! We both get what we want real soon. And Jesus Christ, do you know how to pick 'em. If I'd known you were asking for a brick shithouse to make the exchange, I'd have made you pick someone else." The guy laughs at his own 'joke' and ribs Tom in the side.

The tape keeps him from moving away from the gesture, but he wouldn't try it anyway as that might earn another form of discipline.

But now his thoughts wander off to Chris, and if he will actually come for him. His wildest dream is for the Aussie to wrench the door off its hinges and whisk him away to safety. But he knows that the best he can hope for is a red-faced Luke who efficiently takes him to where he needs to be. His head droops a little at the dose of reality he's serving himself.

The hand on his knee momentarily tightens before irritatingly patting him on the shoulder.

"It's showtime!" Then Tom hears the door creak open before slamming shut, and he's left alone with only his hopes to entertain him.

* * *

The guy wears an overly large pair of sunglasses as well as a worn baseball cap that does nothing to hide the fact that he is balding. Chris' hands tighten around the straps in his hands to keep himself from decking him in the face and ridding him of these poor attempts at trying to conceal himself.

"You Hamsworth?" The man fidgets in place as he takes a good look at Chris. The scuffing of his ratty tennis shoes on the ground echo throughout the abandoned building.

Chris nods tersely without bothering to correct the guy and privately revels in how the confirmation causes the kidnapper discomfort. He uses his height and build to his advantage as he adjusts himself to come off as intimidating as possible. The hard glare on his face also helps.

The kidnapper nods his head in the direction of the large duffel bags in Chris' hands. "And are those the goods?"

Chris silently nods again and seriously begins to question this guy's intelligence. This bumbling man before him is erasing the picture of the cold and calculated kidnapper he had originally painted. What else would he bring to a meeting in a dilapidated warehouse?

The man reaches out for the bags with a grin over his face, but Chris backs away quickly and jerks the bags out of reach.

"Where is he?" The growl in his voice reverberates and startles the kidnapper as he backs away.

The man reaches into the large pocket on the front of his sweatshirt and pulls out a ring with two keys on it. "Over there," he explains with a slight tremor as he jerks his head in the direction of a decrepit looking van. "You get these," he jingles the keys, "when I get those." He shakily points at the duffel bags.

Chris throws two of the bags at the guy, but he sidesteps to avoid being knocked down by his prize. For the last bag, Chris offers the strap of the bag to the kidnapper, and the man holds out the van keys.

The actor snatches the key from his hands but when the kidnapper gets his hand on the strap, Chris yanks it forward so they are now inches apart.

He sees the man's eyes widen behind his sunglasses as he cowers a bit beneath Chris' encompassing presence.

"I don't know what the fuck you were trying to pull by sending me those pictures," growls Chris, "but I swear to god that if even one curly hair on his head has been harmed I will hunt you down and burn you alive with all that money as kindle." He releases the bag with a shove, and the man stumbles backwards nearly tripping over the other duffel bags.

Chris wastes no more time on the quaking man and practically sprints towards the van. Peering inside the window, he immediately spots Tom swaddled in duct tape. He rushes to the passenger side and fumbles with the keys a bit before successfully ripping the door open with a protesting groan of metal grating against rust.

Tom jerks in his seat, and the pitiful sound coming from his mouth has Chris cupping his neck which only serves to make Tom freeze up.

"Tom, it's okay! It's Chris. I'm going to get you out of here now."

Tom calms down considerably once he hears his voice, and the breaths through his nostrils slow down considerably.

Chris' hand moves up to cup his cheek, and he utters a quick apology before ripping off the duct tape over his mouth. Tom yelps, and Chris apologizes profusely before gripping the corner of the tape covering his eyes.

"Wait!" cries out Tom which successfully stays Chris' hand. "I-I'm quite attached to my eyebrows if you don't mind."

Chris groans with a slight smile and momentarily buries his head against Tom's shoulder before making quick work of cutting Tom out of the seat.

The police show up during this process, and it appears they were able to quickly apprehend the kidnapper. They get the Brit out of his bounds but leave the blindfold and try to guide him towards the paramedics. When the police separate the two, Tom starts panicking and calls out for Chris. The Aussie immediately attaches himself to Tom's side and grabs his hand. As Tom gets checked out by the ambulance and finally gets the tape over his eyes removed, Chris never leaves his side.

When Tom's declared physically okay, Chris places an arm around his blanket-clad shoulders (it's for shock, and Tom clings to it like a lifeline). Tom assures the cops he will give his statement the next day as Chris guides him away.

On the way back to the hotel, Tom promptly falls asleep due to exhaustion with his head pillowed on Chris' shoulder. Chris gently pets his hair and manages to get Tom back to his room without waking him. Laying him down on the bed, he marvels at how carefree Tom looks at the moment. When he draws away, Tom's face immediately scrunches up, and his body moves into a fetal position. Chris places a hand on his shoulder, and Tom's body eases back into a more peaceful form.

Chris frowns at what this could possibly mean but then he takes a deep breath and releases it shakily. Lowering himself slowly on to the bed so as not to disturb Tom, he arranges his body behind the Brit and wraps his arms around Tom's waist. Without waking, Tom shifts, and his head leans into Chris' body.

Assured that Tom is going nowhere soon, Chris drifts off, and the two sleep peacefully well into the next morning.

* * *

Tom releases a long sigh of relief as he sinks into his seat. It had been a trying week. He had spent the entirety of two days giving his statement and retelling what happened. He thought not much would be required of him since he had been blindfolded for the majority of it, but the authorities seemed to press for even more details due to his lack of vision. He was still able to identify his kidnapper with the help of voice recognition and the fact that he'd spent a decent amount of time with the man before getting knocked out. To help the process along, the man pleaded guilty to the whole thing.

The studio managed to keep the whole affair under wraps, but offered Tom time off and help if that's what he needed. Tom insisted he was fine, and the studio was happy to leave it at that.

But things aren't fine. The minimal amount of damage he had suffered through did not lessen the actual trauma of the event. In the days since his rescue, Tom found that he had developed some new habits.

If he was talkative before, Tom cannot get himself to shut up now. Perfunctory questions receive long, rambling replies that branch off into strage tangents. Conversations tend to become rather one-sided as Tom goes on for so long to make all of his points that the other person can never get another response in.

He fidgets more. Always restless and never wanting to sit or stand still. Even if exhaustion permeates his bones, he tries to find the little spring of energy that will prolong sleep.

The reason for prolonging sleep, embarassingly enough, is because he now has a childish fear of the dark. Simply closing his eyes for a stretch of time unsettles him and sends a chill through his body. The idea of turning the lights completely off at night is out of the question.

The idea of being alone is also maddening. He craves the company of others.

This is where Chris is a godsend. Ever since waking up snuggled into the Aussie's large chest and finding said Aussie endearingly watching him, Chris hasn't left his side. It's not overbearing but rather comforting to know that there's a constant in his life for now. The younger man has taken to holding his hand a lot more, and Tom can't find the room to complain.

The ordeal may have also done something to Chris' patience as he endures through some of Tom's longer diatribes-- ones which had driven off even the most patient of souls. And in their room, Chris takes to peppering him with small kisses when his one-sided conversations get especially and absurdly derailed. Tom gets shocked into silence by the affection and even manages to hold still as the kisses turn into something more. Later, while engulfed by those spectacularly muscular arms, Tom thanks his stars that Chris never says anything about the corner lamp that remains on for the duration of the night.

So now Tom relaxes into his airplane seat. The cast is being whisked off to another country, and he tries not to think about disappearing tourists or Liam Neeson beating up human traffickers. A large hand squeezing his own repels those thoughts, and he looks over to Hemsworth's smiling face.

"You okay, mate?"

Tom smiles before lifting the hand holding his and kissing those broad fingers.

"Never been better."


	11. Is It Just Me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom's claustrophobia is triggered when he's trapped in an elevator with his fellow castmates.

Chris and Tom chat animatedly about something or other as they trail behind their co-stars into the elevator which will take them down to the lobby floor. The Brit’s attention is diverted when Evans excuses himself and states he’ll take the stairs. No one says anything as they’re all aware of his anxiety problems, but then Tom takes a look at the nearly full elevator and has half a mind to follow his co-star.

He pauses at the threshold of the elevator doors and stares at his castmates. Save for Hemsworth, the rest are engaged in their own conversations. Chris is about to ask him what’s wrong when Robert takes notice of Tom dawdling.

“Come on, Union Jack,” he says as he pulls Tom into the elevator. “Got a space reserved just for you.” Then he punches in the designated floor, and the doors are gliding shut.

“You okay, mate?” asks Chris as he gently places a hand on Tom’s forearm.

Tom stiffens and nods sharply before moving away from the touch which has Chris’ eyebrows furrowing in concern. He’s never known the Brit to shy away from physical contact. In fact, he’s always initiating it.

Just then the lights flicker off, and everyone stumbles in place as the lift jerks to a stop.

“Whoooo!” exclaims Jeremy with a cheer.

“Must be a power outage,” reasons Scarlett. “Someone use the emergency phone.”

“On it,” says Mark as the light from his cellphone goes off to illuminate the panel where the elevator phone is kept. He pries it open and brings the handset to his ear. He answers whatever questions the person on the other line throws at him and then hangs up with a sigh.

“Seems like Evans had the right idea,” remarks Mark wistfully. “We’ll have to sit tight for at least an hour.”

“An hour!” This outburst comes from Tom which stuns his castmates as he is usually so composed and cheery.

Trying to divert focus from Tom, Chris asks, “Why would it take so long?”

“Sounds like a citywide occurrence so that’s just the estimated time. Hopefully it’s restored sooner than that though,” adds Mark optimistically.

Everyone else mumbles their agreement, and then it descends into silence as they all ruminate on what to do in the meantime. Having spent so much time together filming, awkwardness is a foreign concept to them at this point. Each of them soon finds something to discuss with someone else, and time starts to pass by even if slowly. But as more time ticks by, something noticeable takes place within Tom.

If his breathing had hitched upon the elevator’s initial stop, then it becomes downright sporadic the longer it stays still. With the light of his own cellphone, Chris sees how Tom’s eyes are clenched shut, and his fists are bunched together. His chest rises and falls quickly in accordance with his breaths.

Finally, Robert notes the time aloud. “So much for fixing it in an hour,” he complains out of the corner of his mouth.

Tom freezes up at this comment, and his eyes go absolutely wide. “We’re never getting out of here,” he whispers quietly. “We’re never getting out,” he repeats in a louder voice.

What little conversation that had still been going on at this point drops completely.

“What?” asks Jeremy in a voice laced with confusion.

Tom whirls around and presses himself against the doors of the elevator as his arms wave about as much as they can. “Can’t you see!? We’re stuck in here, and these doors are never opening, and we’ll never get out—“

Jeremy pushes forward to grasp an arm while Robert grabs his other arm.

“Snap out of it,” instructs Robert in a stern voice, “there’s no need to panic.”

“It’s all in your head, Tom,” says Jeremy in agreement.

This does nothing to calm down the Brit and only serves to aggravate him further. He rips his arms from their grasp and starts to tug off his tie. “You don’t understand!” he yells back with terrified eyes. “We’re going to die in here!”

Scarlett pulls Jeremy back before he can attempt to restrain Tom again. Mark does the same with Robert. “He’s claustrophobic,” she quietly states.

Chris watches as Tom discards his tie as well as his suit jacket. His breathing is not getting any better, and he is now muttering about the walls crushing them where they stand and the unbearable heat.

“Tom,” he calls out in an unwavering tone. The Brit’s eyes snap up to meet his. “Has this happened to you before?”

He frantically nods his head and hugs his arms to himself as his breathing continues to come out in harsh pants. Everyone’s eyes are inevitably drawn to him as he places his back to the doors and slides down until he is rocking on the floor.

Chris kneels by his side but makes sure not to touch him. He tries coaxing him from his panicked state by gently calling his name.

“You should get him to control his breathing,” softly suggests Mark.

Chris nods and continues to call out Tom’s name. When he does look up, his eyes lock on to Chris’, and Chris can see they are blown wide with panic.

“I need you to breathe for me. Can you do that?”

Tom shakes his head fervently and squeezes himself harder. “We’re going to suffocate in here. Can’t you feel the air thinning out already?! It’s already hot as hell in here too.”

Chris looks up at the rest of his co-stars to find them crowded on the other end of the enclosed space. He hopes it’s for the purpose of giving Tom the illusion of more room. He catches Mark’s eye, and the older actor mimes breathing in and out to emphasize the fact that Chris could keep trying.

He turns back to Tom with a fixed smile on his face. “Tom, there’s plenty of air in here. We’re all fine.”

Tom continues to breathe frantically and shakes his head resolutely.

Chris holds his hand out to Tom in a calming manner. “I want you to breathe with me. Okay. Can you do that? When I count to two, we breathe in, and when I count to two again, we breathe out. Think you can do that?”

Tom just stares at him desperately, so Chris figures he’ll just have to take the lead. “One, two,” he takes a deep breath and mentally sighs as Tom inhales with him. “One, two,” he says again after awhile, and they simultaneously exhale. They continue on in this pattern for awhile, and eventually Chris ups the count to four.

Just as it seems like Tom has calmed down, the elevator gives off a loud groan as the lights come back on. Tom gives a cry of distress and tightly clutches Chris’ hands. His erratic breathing returns tenfold.

“Tom. Tom!” calls out Chris. The grip on his hands is killing his circulation, but he’s completely focused on Tom’s lack of control. He tries to be calms as he instructs, “Breathe with me! Come on, one, two-“

The effort is too late as the elevator makes another unnatural noise, and Tom’s eyes roll into his head as he passes out. Several sounds of surprise are made, and Chris catches him with mortified eyes and tries jiggling him back to consciousness. He keeps calling his name frantically, but the Brit remains unresponsive.

The mystery of the elevator’s noises is solved when the doors finally open to reveal the fire department.

* * *

Tom awakes in the back of an EMT truck, and the paramedic is soon sliding an oxygen mask over his face and instructing him to take breathes slowly. When he is stable again, he finally notices how all of his castmates are gathered around the back of the truck. Confident of the amount of oxygen he has received, he moves over to the exit, sits down, takes the mask off, and smiles in embarrassment at them.

“Well, I guess my secret’s out now.” He puts the mask back up to his mouth and nostrils for lack of anything else to do.

Scarlett places a comforting hand on his knee. “We were all worried about you. We’re just glad you’re better right now.”

Everyone else nods in agreement, and Jeremy offers an apology. “Sorry if I triggered anything. Didn’t mean to.”

Robert raises his hand and adds, “Same here.”

Tom shakes his head emphatically and puts the mask down again. “No, it’s my fault. You were just trying to help. You didn’t know any better.”

Their guilty expressions tell him they don’t buy that, but no one says anything else. They continue to give him well wishes and shuffle off until it’s only the two Chris’ left. Evans pats his kneecap reassuringly. “I completely understand what happened. If you ever need to talk, I’m here for you.”

Tom smiles at him through the mask, and Evans walks away to follow his castmates. Only Hemsworth is left now, and he shuffles around awkwardly while scratching the back of his neck.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that, mate. I wish I could have helped you out more.”

Tom reaches out to hold his hand. “You did an excellent job. It could’ve been much worse.” He takes a deep breath from the mask. “It actually has been much worse.”

Chris’ eyebrows shoot up, and he brushes his thumb across Tom’s knuckles. “Worse?”

The older actor slowly nods his head. “It happens whenever I’m stuck in a space for a long period of time. Usually I’m able to take the stairs or just wait for a lift with far less people. My family or Luke is usually with me. This was the first time I was caught unawares.” He takes another drag from the oxygen tank and looks down as color flushes up his neck.

Chris takes a seat next to him and unlatches his hand from Tom’s. That arm goes over the Brit’s shoulders while his other hand interlaces with Tom’s fingers. “Hey, don’t worry about it. We’ve all got fears.”

Tom looks up at the Aussie in disbelief and pulls down the mask. “Are you saying Chris Hemsworth, portrayer of the god of thunder, ultimate prototype of masculinity, is afraid of something?”

Chris knocks him gently in the shoulder with his own broad set. “Of course.” He looks at Tom earnestly. “For example, I’ve never been as terrified as when you passed out. You nearly gave me a heart attack of my own. I’ve never felt so powerless before. ”

Tom’s eyes widen slightly at the confession. “Oh,” is all he manages to say.

“But just think of it as having gained another member of your secret circle,” continues Chris. “And hey, taking the stairs is healthier for you anyway.”

Tom knocks him back with a laugh and smiles at him through the fog of the oxygen mask. He then leans his head against Chris’ shoulder and hums in contentment at the solidity it provides.


	12. A Cure for What Ails You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom catches a cold.

It all starts with a sneeze. And one which doesn’t go by unnoticed. They are in the middle of an intensely quiet scene with Anthony on his horse staring down at Colm in all his blue made-up glory. Despite the amounts of green screen surrounding them, every actor on set waits in anticipation for the delivery of the next line.

“So be—“

“AAAAAACHHHOOOOO!” goes Tom as he pitches forward from the force of his sneeze. Chris feels the force of it blow against his back, and he spins around to watch as Tom wipe his nose and sniff a few times. He looks up at everyone sheepishly, and a flush creeps up his neck past his high collar.

“Sorry about that,” he apologizes as he sniffs again. Chris detects something off about his voice.

“It’s fine,” says Kenneth from behind the monitor. “Are you okay, though?”

Tom nods with a smile, and Ken returns it with a nod of his own. He then makes a circular motion with his finger. “Just take it back to when Anthony first appears.”

A quiet rumbling moves through the crew as they have to readjust certain platforms and effects, but it all gets reset perfectly. The second take sees no flubs.

But Chris isn’t deaf to the quiet sniffles he hears Tom trying to suppress the second time around.

* * *

They have a quick five minute break between shooting, and Tom is practically slumped over in his designated chair. Chris quietly observes him and takes note of the pale flush of his skin and the dark circles underneath his eyes. He breathes slowly in and out of his mouth.

Chris places the back of his hand across Tom’s forehead, but this gesture stirs the Brit from his nap. He jerks away from Chris’ touch and straightens up in his seat.

“What are you doing?”

Chris stammers for an answer before remembering why he was feeling Tom’s temperature. “How about you tell me how long you’ve been feeling like crap. You’re burning up, mate!”

Tom avoids his gaze and rises from his chair. “It’s nothing to concern yourself with. I’m just feeling a little under the weather.” He stretches out his arms in an arc. “I’ll bounce right back soon enough.”

Chris raises a brow at him, but Tom continues to ignore his eyes. Sighing, the younger actor pushes two water bottles into Tom’s chest. “At least keep yourself plenty hydrated. Lots of fluids and all that.”

Tom sighs exaggeratedly. “Yes, mum.” The smile on his face doesn’t mask the exhaustion in his eyes. He twists off the cap and drains the first bottle.

* * *

Chris is about to knock on the door of Tom’s trailer when he hears a raucous cough from within. The coughing drags on and is reminiscent of someone smoking their first cigarette. After the coughing transforms into choking coughs, Chris knocks once before just opening the door and walking up the stairs.

“You all right?”

The coughing stutters out to be replaced by a pained groan. Chris peers further inside to find Tom lying on top of his bed. He is hunched over on his side and takes slow drawn out breaths solely through his mouth.

Chris feels the back of Tom’s forehead and is alarmed at how much hotter he is than last time. He shakes his head and sighs to himself. Then he pulls the blanket over Tom’s frame and tucks it around him. He takes the smallest towel from his bathroom, thoroughly dampens it, and places it on Tom’s forehead. Then he pulls some bottles of water from the fridge and places them near Tom’s bed in case he needs them in the time that he’ll be gone.

“I’ll be right back, Tom,” reassures Chris though he’s not even sure if the Brit can hear him.

Chris returns soon after with Kenneth and the set doctor in tow. Tom is still thoroughly knocked out.

Kenneth gently grasps Tom by the shoulder and lightly shakes him so as to rouse him. “Tom? Tom?”

The actor blearily opens his eyes and looks up with a groan. Recognizing who is calling on him, they open larger, and he tries to sit up in a hurry which causes the towel to fall off and only provokes a coughing fit.

“Am I late to set?” he asks with a rasp in his voice. “Oh goodness, I’m so sorry. I only meant to rest my eyes for a minute, and the time passed by, and I will be right there if you just give me a mo—“

“Tom,” cuts off Kenneth sternly. “We’ve noticed you’ve been feeling under the weather, so the doctor’s going to verify what we already know, and then you’re going home to gets some well needed rest.”

Tom shakes his head in protest to this. “What are you talking about? It’s just a minor case of the sniffles. I’ll be fine.” His point is immediately invalidated by a series of sneezes he unleashes.

Kenneth levels him with a wordless stare, and eventually Tom leans back against the wall in resignation.

The set doctor gets to work and immediately tsks at Tom. “Your temperature is higher than average, and you need to rest immediately.”

He sighs and draws the blanket tighter around him. “Okay,” he concedes as he starts to lie back down on his bed.

Kenneth reaches out to stop his progress. “What are you doing, Tom?”

The younger actor looks up at his director quizzically. “Resting. Restoring my energy so to speak.”

Kenneth shakes his head while clapping a hand to his shoulder. “While I admire your work ethic, we need you at your A-game and that’s not going to be achieved with you tempting yourself so close to set. You’re going back home to sleep this off.”

Tom’s face appears equal points disappointed and relieved, but at that moment another fit of coughs wrack his body. He manages to force out a question among the  
coughing. “What about the film?”

“Scenes can be rearranged. Don’t worry yourself about that. Just concentrate on getting better for now.” He nods over at Chris who had managed to remain unnoticed and has a pack slung over his shoulder. “Now Chris is going to make sure you get to bed, and I don’t want to see you again until you can go five minutes without breaking into a phlegm fueled fit.”

Tom covers his mouth with a corner of the blanket as a powerful sneeze overtakes him. Knowing he’s beat, Tom shakily gets to his feet and is quickly supported by his co-stars of the past and present.

* * *

Tom collapses on to his bed with what sounds like a happy groan, but Chris isn’t too sure. The Aussie piles the various blankets and comforter on and around Tom so that he now resembles a slowly rising pile.

As he falls into his slumber, Chris sets to work on unloading the materials he has brought with him. He places more bottles of water on the nightstand beside the bed as well as a bottle of ibuprofen. A bottle of cough syrup he had gotten from Natalie also makes its way to the nightstand.

Entering Tom’s bathroom, he repeats the process in creating a cold compress and proceeds back to the bedroom where he smoothes back Tom’s hair and places the cool towel on his burning forehead. Tom hums in contentment while also drawing the blankets tighter around him.

Chris makes a quick tour of the rented apartment in search of other things with which to speed up Tom’s recovery. He only finds a small square box of tissues and some more bottles of water in the fridge. The food Tom does have is just leftover takeout and not fit for him to consume at the moment. He thanks his stars that he happened to spot a little corner market on the way over, so after scrawling a note to Tom, he makes his way over there.

The little store happened to have everything he needed, and Chris gets to unloading this round of supplies as well. Even more water goes into the fridge. The cupboards get stocked with various amounts of canned soups, tea, and crackers. Fruit takes up space on the small counter.

He walks back into Tom’s bedroom, and the Brit is still dead to the world though he has tossed and turned so much in the short amount of time Chris was gone. He puts the note back into his pocket, moves the towel on the side for later, and places the tissue boxes as well as an additional bottle of cough syrup on the stand within Tom’s reach. Feeling the older man’s forehead, it feels slightly cooler than earlier but still not normal. He rearranges the blankets back over Tom and heads back to the kitchen.

He knows using actual vegetables and actual chicken would be preferable, but he doesn’t trust his own culinary skills at the moment and is going to leave such things to the trusted Campbell company. But he didn’t stoop to the cheap stuff that could only be warmed in a microwave. He fires up the stove and heats up the contents of two cans of chicken noodle soup as well as putting a kettle on to boil some water.

After deeming it suitably hot enough, he scoops some into a bowl and places it on a plate. Around the bowl, he also places some crackers and a banana. Picking up the plate, he slowly walks back to the room to find Tom awake. The Brit is sat up with a script firmly clutched in hand that he is pouring over.

“Tom,” rebukes Chris as he puts the plate on what room is left on the nightstand.

Tom sniffles as he peers up at Chris with a guilty expression. He smiles weakly at his co-star before a sneeze momentarily distorts his features.

The younger actor promptly grabs a tissue and hands it to Tom while also plucking the script from his hands. “You’re on bed rest until further notice. No more work for you.”

Tom attempts to protest this ruling but quickly covers his mouth with the tissue as he starts coughing. In response, Chris pours out the proper amount of cough medicine into the little plastic cup and waits until Tom’s coughing has subsided to hand it to him.

Tom winces at the sight of it and tries to plead with his eyes. Chris remains unmoved and just ushers the cup closer to him. The Brit sighs, takes the cup in hand, and downs it quickly. He grimaces and shudders after swallowing and quickly accepts the water bottle Chris holds in front of him.

“You’d think they would have found a way to make that more palpable by now,” he comments with a scratch in his throat which he tries clearing as he wipes his mouth. As he puts the water bottle back on the nightstand, his eyes widen at the sight of the food. “Is this for me?”

Chris rolls his eyes as he unpeels the banana. “No, I just got really hungry and decided to take my lunch in front of you.”

Tom simpers at him and takes the fruit from him. As he chews on it, the kettle whistles its shrieking tune. Chris hurries back out to shut off the stove and prepares a cup of green tea. Walking back to the bedroom, he finds Tom blowing at the soup and bending over it awkwardly to eat.

“Here, let me,” offers Chris as he places the mug down on the nightstand, drags over a chair, and takes the spoon from Tom. He scoops up a decent portion, brings it over his hand, and brings it closer to Tom.

“You’re going above and beyond the call of duty,” says Tom with a small smile.

“It’s for a special cause,” insists Chris.

Tom flushes though Chris isn't sure if it's from embarrassment or the fever and accepts the spoonful of soup. They continue in this way for awhile with Tom breaking rhythm now and then to dip a cracker in the stuff. After finishing a good portion of it, Chris replaces the bowl for the mug which still retained some warmth. Tom takes it in hand and sighs happily as he sips.

He raises the mug as if toasting Chris. “Thanks for this. For all of this really. When will you have to go back?”

“Probably when you can talk in your regular dulcet tones again.”

Tom levels a look at him while putting the mug away. He settles back under the covers and shoos away Chris’ attempt to fluff his pillows. “I don’t think the studio’s going to appreciate your self-appointed role as my nursemaid.” The corner of his lips pulls upward into a little smirk. “And I have to warn you that I’m quite a lousy employer. You’re taking quite the paycut.”

“Well I think the benefits will more than make up for that,” jokes Chris in turn as he gathers all the dishes together. “And besides, there are a handful of scenes that don’t have either of us in it.” Tom makes a consenting sort of noise as he draws the covers up to his chin. Chris pats him gently on the shoulder. “Now quit worrying and get some more shut eye.”

“Yes, sir,” replies the Brit teasingly. Chris gives him his most mother hen look before finally getting up to wash the dishes. Tom calls out to him, and the Aussie whirls around only to find the Brit leaning forward with a large smile stretching across his face. “Thank you, Chris. For everything.”

“Don’t thank me yet! You’re still sick.”

Tom sighs, and it’s a throaty affair which Chris can hear from across the room. “You know what I mean.”

“Tom, it’s honestly no problem,” replies Chris earnestly. “Now please get some sleep, and I’ll fix up your next meal.”

With a smile, Tom lies his head back down on the pillow and does just that.


	13. We're Not on Midgard Anymore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom and Chris find themselves in Loki and Thor's bodies post-Avengers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not very satisfied with this one. I feel like it could go on much longer, but I didn't have it in me thus the abrupt ending. Someone else is free to pick this up if they feel like it.

When the world re-orients itself, Chris finds himself bent crouched over at the waist and staring at the strangest floor pattern. The producers really have spared no expense for this premiere as the floor lights up in the most dazzling colors.

A hand clamps down on his shoulder accompanied by a muffled noise. The hand quickly withdraws in a flurry of clinking noises, and the noise becomes decidedly more high-pitched.

Chris eyes’ shoot up in curiosity and his eyes widen at the sight before him. Tom, who had previously been wearing a nice three-piece suit, is now fully decked out in his Loki costume. Other things about Tom’s appearance are also startling. Gone is the short curly reddish hair only to be replaced by the shoulder length black locks. Eyes that would shift between blue and green depending on the lighting are now a very striking green. And he assumes that Tom is once again clean shaven though the metal mask on his face keeps him from definitively knowing. 

It’s the sudden presence of this mask which has given rise to Tom’s panic. His eyes widen, and his hands immediately go to his face in an attempt to pry it off. Metal cuffs also adorn his wrists, and the Brit is in absolute panic mode.

Chris tries to rise up to help him off but is immediately impeded by the immovable weight at his hip. He cannot get more than a few scant inches from his current position, and the attempt to bolt up to his feet quickly results in him crashing down on his knees. 

Reaching for the source of his immobilization, he finds it in the hammer that is tied around his belt. He briefly marvels at how it is way heavier than it needs to be (the various props could still do some damage but are nowhere near this dense) but then fumbles to unclasp the heavy weapon. Finally free from the weight, he surges up and grasps Tom’s face (which also feels remarkably colder) between his hands.

“Breathe,” he commands. “Slowly,” he adds as Tom’s nostrils flare at the sole passage he can suck air through. 

He runs his hands over the gag—for what else could it be—and his eyes narrow in confusion. “What the—“ he muses rather unhelpfully. The metal contraption before him is completely new to him. It looks like the thing from the film, but the problem is that he’s never seen anything like it before. The one from the movie was a complete CGI creation so obviously there was nothing to behold. The prop the CGI model was based off of had straps that could be easily removed. This muzzle wrapping around Tom’s face is made completely out of metal and has no visible latches or buttons. He runs his fingers all along it and brushes fingers against the back of it. He feels…something give way and then finally, the device is popping off of Tom’s face.

The Brit gags a bit as it comes out of his mouth, and he rubs his jaw to work out the temporary kinks. 

“Thanks,” says Tom hoarsely. The clink of his chains alert both men to their presence. Tom tries yanking them off then grimaces when they won’t give. He squeezes one hand and tries to slide out of them, but the cuffs still remain firmly attached to his wrists. Tom even goes so far as to step on the chain connecting both cuffs and pulling with all his might. With a small cry, he quickly gives up that method. He holds his hands out to Chris with a worried expression. He chuckles nervously to try and mask his growing panic. “Mind working your magic again?”

Chris simply nods before taking one of Tom’s hands in his own and turning it. Just like the mask, no buttons or latches exist on his restraints. He tries running his finger over the only seam but that does nothing. Trying to stifle his growing panic, he pats himself down to see if he happens to have the key. The only thing on him of note that seems like it would work is a curiously thin piece of metal that's the same color as the cuffs. 

Before he can slide it through the seam, a deep voice interjects. “Do you believe that to be the wisest course of action, Odinson?”

Chris nearly jumps out of his skin and instinctively pushes Tom back at the deep voice.

The figure—for it feels wrong to call him a man though he resembles one— standing before them greatly resembles Idris and yet does not. He is somehow more imposing, stands even taller, and his golden armor is hard to look at. When his golden gaze falls on Chris, he feels as if his whole history is being laid out before this man. 

He has no immediate answer on hand because when his eyes slip from the being to what lies behind him, he is left breathless. To say that beyond him is nothing would be a lie, but it would neither be the truth. An expanse of stars – more than he’s ever seen considering he grew up in an isolated part of the Outback—brighten up the atmosphere. It is not the usual inky blackness that he would identify with the night sky but an actual array of deep colors that blend together beautifully. It stretches out all around them, and he has never felt so small in his life. The quick intake of breath from behind him tells him he’s not the only one who feels that way.

It’s quite clear they’re not on Earth much less LA anymore. 

He slaps a hand to his face and the fact that he has a full-grown beard when he was clean-shaven just a few minutes ago. With a growing horror he reaches up to his own head and instead of the little bun that he has taken to tying his hair into, his hand meets an abundance of thick tangled hair that he can pull into his line of vision. He gives it a tug, and instead of a wig falling off, it hurts a bit.

“What the hell—“ he wonders aloud when the realization slams into Tom.

“W-what did you just call him?” he asks the Idris sort-of-look-a-like. 

“By your father’s name,” answers the being. His face remains impassive, and it’s clear he will offer no further explanation.

Chris responds with what he deems an appropriate response. “What the fuck is going on?”

“What is the meaning of this?” asks a gruff voice. 

The two actors whip around to find another larger than life being standing before them. Chris has a passing idea as to who this is supposed to be due to the single eye which scrutinizes the two of them. But where Anthony had radiated somewhat of a fatherly aura, this person lacks anything resembling comfort or warmth. It takes a lot of will power for Chris to not tremble in his very boots. If he had felt small in the face of the all encompassing universe, than he feels absolutely miniscule in the one-eyed gaze. 

That eye switches over to Tom, and he feels the older actor flinching in the colder gaze which is also underlined by disappointment. The corner of the man’s eyes crinkle ever so slightly while looking at him. 

Keeping his eye on Tom, the man continues in a stern voice, “The actions of your brother on Midgard do not warrant such freedoms until proper sentencing has been passed.” His voice continually dips in warning in a way that tells Chris he is no way pleased with what he perceives to be a lapse in security. 

Chris once again angles himself in front of Tom at the word ‘sentencing’. 

But just like his character, Tom sidesteps the wall Chris is trying to create and holds his hands up in a placating manner with his shackles swaying at the movement. “There’s been some sort of mix-up. Despite our appearances, we’re not actually your so—“ His explanation is cut off as he makes a choking noise, and his hands fly to his throat in horror. 

“I will not be privy to any more of your sweet lies,” intones the All-Father darkly. 

Chris stares in wide-eyed shock at Tom as the latter fails at forming a coherent word. He once more steps forward with clenched fists and asks, “What have you done tom him?” 

Odin scrutinizes him for a second with a barely perceptible tilt to his head. “What you will not: silencing him until it is prudent for him to speak.” He half turns in the other direction of the road they are on. “Now, will you escort him or must I summon guards to do what should be a simple task?”

Chris now shields Tom completely. “Escort him where?” he asks suspiciously even as the niggling part of his mind yells at him for having to ask such a question considering the circumstances they have found themselves in. 

Tom moans from behind him while Odin’s brow crinkles in more confusion. “Has something happened on your return journey? To his cell, of course, until proper punishment has been decided on.”

Chris backs up at this proclamation, and he nearly trips over a solid weight that could probably break the bones in his foot if he’s not careful. His eyes widen as an idea hits him, and he wraps both of his hands around the shaft of the hammer. 

“Look!” he yells as he pointlessly tugs on the handle. “Totally unworthy. Definitely not your son.” For extra emphasis, he tugs with all his weigh with clenched teeth, and eyes squeezed shut in concentration. Tom’s garbled cry gets him to drop what he’s doing (no pun intended) and whirl around. 

His stomach bottoms out as Odin has a firm grip on Tom’s forearm. The Brit struggles in the hold, but it’s useless. The two actors exchange panicked looks as Odin levels Chris with a concerned one.

“I admit this is an unusual matter, but it will be resolved later,” mutters the All-Father. “Now bring the Tesseract and come along. We have tarried too long.” Any further protests Chris would voice die in his throat as Odin does an about face and marches off with Tom in tow. He scrambles to pick up the cylindrical device containing the glowing blue cube that was abandoned on the colorful ground in the wake of their arrival and follows after the two. 

As they approach the gates to the gleaming city, a regal figure stands apart from the pair of guards. This figure gives Odin pause. 

“Frigga? What are you doing here?”

The queen holds herself even straighter, and she is more magnificent for the poise she is able to infuse into what would come off as stern posture in a lesser being. The single raised eyebrow she directs at her husband speaks volumes of what she thinks of that question. Chris is glad to not be in Odin’s position at this moment.

“Our son has been lost to us, and upon his return, you would wish that I stayed away rather than greet him?”

“I only wished to spare you any further pain,” explains Odin. 

Frigga’s stony gaze is a remarkable difference from the serene looks that Chris grew accustomed to seeing on Renee’s face. As if in defiance of any more of her husband’s wishes, she takes a determined step towards Tom with arms outstretched. It as she fully looks upon him that her footing falters, and she stops abruptly in her tracks. 

“Who is this?”

Odin looks between Tom and his wife. “Surely it has not been so long since you have seen Loki that you can no longer recognize him?”

“If only that were the case for that is not Loki.” Her eyes travel to Chris, and he fights the urge to smooth down his wild hair and bow his head. “And for that matter, neither is that Thor. How is that you have come back with men that are not our sons?”

Both Odin and the guards at the gate look at the two actors as confusion mounts on the All-Father’s face. 

Chris takes advantage of the confused silence to provide an explanation. “That’s what we’ve been trying to tell you this entire time! We don’t know how we ended up here, but we’re not who you think we are despite what you’re seeing with your eyes.” Realizing his slip of the tongue, he adds, “I mean eye.” He reaches out for Tom and latches on to his other arm, but Odin’s grip does not release him. “If you could somehow send us back, it’d be really appreciated.”

Odin’s eye narrows at Chris and then swivels back to his wife. Her lips are pursed to show she believes the story. Then that single eye lands on Tom, who had been looking at him imploringly, and the Brit flinches. Odin appears unimpressed as he further scrutinizes the body of his second son.

“I know not what sorcery has overcome the pair of you, but I grow weary of it.” He moves as if to proceed into the city but both Chris’ persistent grip and the obstinate position of Frigga’s body before him act as obstacles. 

“Where is Mjolnir?” asks the queen.

Odin sighs. “It has been left on the bridge.” The reason remains unspoken, but he appears slightly shaken as to what it means.

“You would rather believe that Thor has somehow become unworthy—that his mind is no longer noble and his heart impure—than that an impostor inhabits his skin?”

“Anything is possible,” mutters Odin realizing his choice of words too late.

“Like us not being your sons!” presses Chris. 

Ignoring Chris, he asks his wife, “What makes you believe these are not our sons?”

She steps forward and gently cups both actors’ faces with her hand, and Chris feels blessed for the touch. Looking at Tom, she answers, “There is an easy openness to his face that I have not seen since he was but a child. It is quick to express genuine joy and longing without slipping back into a cold mask.” Tom’s eyes widen in wonder and thankfulness at her assessment. 

She switches her attention to Chris. “And though urgency lines his face and his actions at this moment, it is not burdened with the grief and weariness that Thor has carried around these past seasons. His smiles are not troubled.”

“And so have their experiences on Midgard changed them,” says Odin sternly. 

Frigga quickly withdraws her hands to glare at her husband. “You know that to be false,” she snaps. 

Tom flinches, and Chris’ eye flies to Odin’s hand which has tightened reflexively before beginning to loosen ever so slightly. Sensing a perfect opportunity and looking to head off a lengthy argument, he wraps his other arm around Tom’s middle and pulls.

Forgetting about the tesseract still in hand, the move does not go unnoticed as the cylindrical container prods into Odin’s side. The ancient being reacts too late though as Chris effectively tugs Tom away from the All-Father. Tom immediately clutches to Chris as the two of them skitter away from the royal Asgardians. 

“Thor!” rumbles Odin threateningly.

“I’m not Thor!” yells Chris through gritted teeth. “I don’t know how else to convince you, but you’ll just have to take our word for it.”

The queen nods in acceptance, while Odin firmly remains unconvinced. He makes a motion to the guards to handle the situation. 

In that instance, Tom grunts in frustration and turns in Chris’ hold. He grasps both sides of Chris’ face, and the younger actor sees in Tom’s eyes that gleam of determination that precedes each of their scenes together. The gleam that says he’s out to prove something, and they’re going to nail this scene in one take, goddamnit! The look that says “It’s showtime!”

Suddenly, Tom’s mouth has fully descended on his, and he’s being kissed for all he’s worth. His gasp of surprise allows for Tom’s tongue to slip and oh god, is he doing some sinful things with it.

From the corner of his eye, Chris sees both Frigga and Odin struck dumb with shock. He can’t help but smile and give in to the ravishing Tom’s giving him. Tom’s really getting into it (it’s getting quite sloppy now actually), and the chains still affixed to his wrists noisily clang against Chris’ armor. 

His mind drifts towards alone time in the hotel and stolen moments between shooting the film. His arm comes up to grip Tom and once again, he’s forgotten about the stupid container which pokes Tom in the back. One of his slender hands leaves Chris to push away at the thing, and Chris feels the thing slightly jerk in his hands as Tom presumably grabs the other handle. He only has a few moments to wonder what that means when his vision goes white, and he feels a strange—yet familiar—tugging sensation.

When the world re-orients itself, Chris finds himself staring at an ugly floral pattern with mystery stains spotting it here and there. He groans in distaste and looks up from his position on the floor and meets Tom's eyes which are blown wide open. 

Chris takes a moment to stare at his co-star before it sinks in. Tom looks completely normal. He's back in his three-piece suit along with his wonderful temporarily ginger hair and beard. Gone are the dreaded chains which served as a sign of future imprisonment. He quickly runs a hand back over his own features to find that he's back to being clean-shaven with his hair neatly swept into its little bun.

A large smile born of relief grows on both of their faces at the same time, and Chris isn't sure who moves first, but they tightly embrace each other as if they'll slip away again if they let go.

Figuring they were safe from any more interdimensional weirdness, they settle on to the setee in the room.

"What the hell happened?" asks Tom breaking the silence. 

Chris shrugs. "Beats me."

"I mean, did we actually manage to fall through some sort of rift in space and time that only allowed for our consciences to travel into the bodies of the very deities we portray on the silver screen?"

"Either that or we just had the weirdest shared acid trip," jokes Chris.

Tom elbows him for that. "This is serious. We just experienced something that heretofore has never even been conceived as probable much less possible!"

"Which is probably why we should keep a lid on it." Looking as if he's about to interject, Chris heads Tom off with an explanation. "We have no proof of where we've been, and any attempt to explain will probably just come off as having seen our own movie one too many times. This'll just have to be kept between the two of us."

Tom's silence is a sign of his reluctant acquiescence, and he stares down at his own hands. Chris stretches his own arm to settle around Tom's shoulders, and the older actor accepts the contact by leaning into his chest.

"Our little trip has given me quite another perspective on Loki. I mean, I thought I understood all that brokenness and poor self-esteem that he had. That I was portraying it in a respectful manner. But actually being under the weight of a disapproving glare that is ever scrutinizing..." Tom shivers at the very recent memory. 

Chris nods in agreement. "Mmmm. My own protective instincts got driven up to eleven thanks to that dick. I always thought Thor was a bit of an idiot for constantly believing in Loki, but it's just as irritating to see someone never believe in him. And if you consider that no one probably believes him, then I guess it's okay that Thor extends that hand. Lets him know the opportunity's there if he'd like to grab it."

The two sit and contemplate what they've learned.

"Well thank god Anthony's nothing like that," jokes Chris again.

Tom nods in silent agreement. 

"Hey, um, how did you know that kissing would work? In terms of convincing the old man?"

Tom chuckles sheepishly. "I didn't. It just seemed like a good idea at the time in face of what was probably going to be a long imprisonment."

Chris blinks slowly in response to this. He grins goofily. "Well it was a damn good call! Wouldn't mind getting a repeat performance." He winks.

Tom blushes. "We'll have time for that later. First, we have to get back to our own premiere."

The two rise and make to leave when something occurs to Tom.

"Wait. I remember being by the bar before we were pulled elsewhere." He looks at their surroundings. "Do you think it's possible that... while we were there," he gestures his finger in a circular motion at the ceiling, "they were here?"

Both of their eyes widen at the idea, and they slowly peak their heads out of the door. The strange scene of chaos and disorder that greets them has them quickly withdrawing themselves from view. 

"How the hell did they manage all that?"

"I don't know, mate, but I say we wait it out until everyone stops wanting our hides."

So they spend the rest of what's supposed to be a triumphant evening hiding away from people sporting black eyes and other bruises, pissed off celebrities in ruined designer clothes, disgruntled hotel employees who have the honor of cleaning up the aftermath of small electrical fires and other broken items, agents and assistants who will lecture the ears off of their respective clients for the PR disaster, and studio heads hunting down the ones responsible for making them have to pay the fire departent for coming out. All in all, it almost makes them want to go back and face Odin.


	14. Fashion Sense

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris has some fun with Tom's scarves.
> 
> a.k.a
> 
> Shameless PWP

“What could you possible use all of these for?”

Tom turns to see what Chris is talking about and is privy to the sight of his box of scarves having been upended all over his hotel bed. The Aussie holds up several different types of scarves with an inquiring look on his brow. 

With a sigh, he answers, “Those all happen to be tokens from my admiring fans, thank you very much.”

He stifles a laugh behind his hand and tries to pass it off as a cough as Chris throws a cravat over his shoulders, and it barely touches his collarbone. Chris pulls it off with a smile and compares it to a skinny scarf that dangles all the way down to his knee. “You’ve got quite the variety here. Though I can’t really see you wearing all of these.”

Tom shrugs in response. “It’s the sentiment behind the gesture rather than the practicality of the gift.”

Chris holds up one of the shorter clothing items between his fingers with a skeptical look on his face. “A cravat? Really?”

“I’m surprised you even know what one is,” retorts Tom, and Chris snorts in return. “But you never know when I’ll find use for it. Now will you please put those back nicely,” he requests. Considering the conversation over, Tom turns his back on Chris to return his attention to the papers on his desk. 

Being absorbed in the task before him, he is barely aware of the creak of the bed as Chris slowly gets off of it. He’s mid-sentence into his document before something slides over his eyes and cuts off his vision. He stiffens and tries to jerk away, but Chris successfully ties the cloth around his head and holds him still. 

“What are you doing?” he asks a chuckling Chris. 

The knot is secured and then he’s being whirled around to face the other man. He reaches out to grip Chris’ thick arms while Chris has a similarly gentle hold on his own arms. The heat of the younger man is suddenly overwhelming as Chris smiles into his cheek before giving him a whiskery peck. 

“Finding a use for all of these scarves, of course,” answers the Aussie in a low murmur which sends shivers down Tom’s body. 

Tom’s heard of the fact that other senses become sharpened in the wake of losing one. And by god, if he hadn’t of put much stock into it before, he is now a firm believer. When Chris presses their lips and bodies together, he is more aware than ever of the texture of the younger actor’s mouth. 

Then the warm, wet push of Chris’ tongue against his own has him eagerly squeezing the arms in his grip. He knows first-hand the sheer strength and physicality Chris possesses (hell, he’s gotten a taste of it first-hand), but feeling the ripples of muscle beneath his very fingertips is exhilarating. He squeezes even harder, and Chris answers with a happy groan as his hands work quickly to divest Tom of his clothes. 

Tom grunts as he feels some of the buttons of his shirt being ripped off. He breaks away and licks his lips slowly. “I’ll have you know this happens to be one of my favorite shirts,” he pouts as he shoulders it off. 

Chris nips at his now exposed collarbone, and Tom gasps at the wet heat. Chris’ hands move farther down Tom’s arms and pull them down until his wrists are nearly encased in   
one hand. “I’m sure you’ll have a new favorite after all this,” muses the Aussie before Tom feels some fabric being wrapped around his wrists. 

He instinctively tugs away, and a hand gently cups his neck. 

“Do you want me to stop?” asks Chris guiltily. 

An image flashes through Tom’s mind at that moment. He has always prided himself on his imagination but perhaps the obscuring of his vision helped to intensify the picture his brain painted. He sees himself stretched beneath Chris, arms straining overhead, and taut body trembling at every kiss and caress he receives. The phantom feeling of Chris’ hands exploring his body sends a rush of blood straight to his groin as he groans. He slowly shakes his head in response to the question.

“Are you sure?” questions Chris again. “You’re shaking like a leaf.”

Tom sighs. Leave it to Chris to start off headstrong and gung-ho only to trip up things really got going. He blindly reaches forward and grips what he assumes to be the younger man’s collar. He bunches his fists in the material, brings his face near, and hisses, “Tie me down and fuck me into the goddamn bed until I’ve gone hoarse from screaming.”

He feels Chris’ heavy exhale all over his face, and then the Aussie is grabbing his wrists again and finishing his knot with a satisfying tug. He pulls at it experimentally to find that it’s quite secure.

A small smile pulls at his lips when a strong hand grips the back of his neck and pulls him in for a bruising kiss. Teeth and tongues clash hungrily, and it is as if Chris is trying to devour him. Another arm snakes around his body, and a large hand splays across the small of his back to push him fully against Chris. His arms are effectively trapped between their two bodies, and the feeling of being so trapped really stirs his dick. All he can do is fiddle and push down on Chris’ pants as the Aussie absolutely plunders the crevices and corners of his mouth. 

He moans as Chris pulls away. “You’ve never quite killed me like that before,” praises the Brit shakily. 

“Just savoring the taste of your lips,” murmurs Chris as he nuzzles at his jaw line before spinning him forward. Lips continue to suckle at the flesh of his throat as another scarf—longer this time—winds about his lower body and through his arms to effectively trap his hands at waist level. 

One hand comes up to play with his nipples, and Tom hums appreciatively. Then something brushes across his lips, and when he opens his mouth, a knotted cloth settles between his teeth. His tongue dampens it by running across it, and he bites down on the wad. 

He makes a questioning noise in the back of his throat and tries to lift his arms momentarily forgetting they’re tied down. 

“You’ll still go hoarse from screaming, but it can just be between you and me,” teases the Aussie. 

Tom’s grumble is quickly replaced with a startled gasp as his pants and underpants are tugged off, and he is then swept up bare-ass naked into Chris’ arms. He toes off the garments that have pooled around his ankles and then keeps squirming just for the hell of it. He has enough confidence that those muscles will not drop him, but it’s nice to test them out. He voices his pseudo-indignation as best as he can as he’s lowered on to the bed.

“If I go too far or if you need me to stop just flip me the bird with both hands.”

Tom nods in understanding, and as he adjusts, Chris places a hand over his ankles. He hears a familiar clicking noise, and as understanding hits him, he bucks up with a noise of protest pouring from his throat. The force of his thrust causes Chris to kneel on his legs. 

“Come on. Don’t you want a reminder of this experience?”

Tom bites down on the cloth and just growls. The pressure relents from his legs, and he hears something being tossed to the bedside table beside him and then a rustling of clothes. 

Now when Chris leans down on him, the man’s heat pours off more directly as he is no longer encumbered by clothes. The younger man’s presence is overwhelming as his broader   
body covers every inch of Tom’s own. The scarf around his middle is slowly unwound, and Tom relishes the feel of the material as it slides over his abdomen. He moves his hands up to fondle the planes of Chris’ abdomen as Chris once again takes up suckling at his throat. 

When he grazes a nipple, the Aussie leans back on him with a strong thigh on either side of Tom’s body and takes his wrists in one hand. Tom shivers as he feels the middle and pointer fingers of one hand slowly being slid into the warm passage of Chris’ mouth. A tongue slowly swirls around his digits, and he rolls his hips. Chris repeats the process on the other hand, and now Tom’s sucking in air through his nose and through what air comes around the gag in his mouth. 

His arms are guided upwards and remain there even after Chris’ hands are once more exploring his body. He doesn’t need to tug to know that yet another scarf has been used against him. 

Chris is once more putting his tongue to use by having it lap over Tom’s nipples. The noise this action produces could be defined as a needy whine though Tom will reject such a definition. He squirms again in what he hopes looks like some sort of seductive body roll but is probably coming off as jerky body thrusts. 

Chris ignores his little pleads in favor of using his tongue and leaving his mark in other places. It just further goes to quicken Tom’s breathing and have him pant harder until the noise escaping his throat is admittedly a whine. The hands roaming his body also serve to remind him of the disuse of his own. 

Finally, a hand sensually traces its way down to his ankle. As his leg is lifted up, those damn lips are back to tracing kisses down his leg. It starts from his inner thigh and ends at his ankle. Tom is sorely tempted to kick him straight in the face for that, but he’s too busy moaning and arching his back to do that. His legs are hoisted on to those broad shoulders, and the proof of Chris’ own arousal pokes insistently at him.

Any thoughts of discomfort quickly flee from his mind. Tom cannot help his gasp as Chris’ finger enters him. He tenses for a few seconds and then relaxes. Chris waits for the tension to ease out before sliding his thick finger in an out of Tom’s hole. It is slick with lube, and Tom shudders at the contact and then a second finger is joining in and the scissoring motion brings the groan back. He yearns for Chris to be truly inside of him, and he wants to make that known but all his traitorous throat wants to do is to growl animalistically. His dick is hard at this point. 

The sound of Chris’ own growl brings a smile to his lips. He tugs his arms and his fingers grip insistently at the scarf holding his hands above him. He bucks his hips once more as a way of saying ‘Get on with it!’ Those large hands finally grip his waist, and he feels the tip of Chris cock brushing against the entrance of his hole. Then he’s thrusting in, and all of the air vacates Tom’s body. He’s had Chris before, but this time he truly feels him. He feels as he is filled in every sense of the word, and he loves it. His body clenches around Chris as a gesture of how much he wants this. 

The first thrust is not much of a thrust because of how slow and restrained it is. Nevertheless, it has Tom shaking his head into the sheets, and his curls plaster to his sweaty forehead. Both of their bodies are shaking, and it is both born from desire. But Chris is trying to hold back. 

Tom bites down on his thoroughly soaked gag and demands as best as he can for Christ to MOVE, goddamnit. Chris bestows a lovingly shaky kiss to his collarbone and then he unleashes. 

The all consuming blackness of the blindfold is nearly replaced with a blinding white that bursts forth in the center of his vision. His screams are mostly muffled by the scarf, but what does make it out seems to spur Chris further. He fists clench tighter and tighter into the fabric holding him, and his body meets Chris thrust for thrust. 

The hands bruising his hips, his legs sprawling around Chris, the binds stretching his arms, and the other scarves depriving him of sight and speech all combine to drive him completely over the edge. One particular delicious thrust hits something, and his back arches even further off the bed with his head thrown back. Every muscle in his body tenses and then those thick, wet fingers grasp his hardened member and with two jerks he comes with a guttural cry. 

The grips on his hip digs in, and he feels Chris release into him soon after with a loud grunt of his own.

Tom’s body sags, his head goes to the side, and he sucks in air through his nostrils and what air does come in his mouth. The sticky heat of Chris’ body hovers him, and Chris’   
own pants brush against his face. Hair tickles his face before he feels Chris’ forehead press against the side of his own. He appreciates Chris not immediately collapsing on top of him afterwards.

Shaky fingers grasp the scarf in his mouth and yank it down to hang about his neck.

“That was different,” he rasps.

Chris merely hums as he pulls out and smoothes down Tom’s hair. 

They lay like that for awhile trying to regain their breath. It’s a nice intimate moment that Tom would like to participate in more. He clears his throat and shakes his arms to get Chris’ attention. 

“How rude of me,” says Chris. Tom feels a scratchy sort of material wiping over his stomach. He avoids the fluid leaking out of his hole knowing full well how Tom likes the feel of it. “Hope you weren’t too attached to this one.”

“Cheeky bastard,” mutters Tom.

His arms finally lower with a drop though his wrists remain bound. Before he can comment on this, Chris tilts his head up, and they are kissing again. This one is much slower but no less hungry. 

The blindfold slides off his head, and he blinks a few times to clear his vision. Chris stares at him and presses another kiss to his temple.

“Thanks.”

Tom smiles. “It’s your turn next time. And you’d better delete those pictures,” he demands as he nods his head in the direction of the nightstand. 

Chris smirks. “You wanna see ‘em first?” As he brings the phone into view, Tom feels confusion settle in as he recognizes the phone.

“That’s my phone.”

“Yeah, I texted them to myself.”

All of Tom’s warm feelings dissolve in that instance, and he buries his head into Chris’ chest. “Please don’t tell me you sent them to the contact labeled ‘Chris’.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” he answers into Tom’s hair. The Aussie grunts in surprise as Tom jerks his head up and pushes at his chest with a mortified expression on his face.

Before Chris can ask what’s wrong, the phone rings. The call is from ‘Chris’, and a picture of a smiling Chris Evans looks back at the two of them. Tom immediately reaches for his phone, but Chris bats his hands away. 

“Hemsworth! Give me my phone!”

To his horror, Chris answers. “Hello?”

“What are you doing!?” He makes another grab for the phone with his bound hands, but Chris pins them down.

“Oh, he’s right here,” Chris replies in answer to something that Evans has presumably asked. 

As Tom struggles, Chris goes a step farther by nestling the phone in between his ear and shoulder and stuffing the scarf used as a blindfold into Tom’s mouth. The one hanging around his neck promptly goes back into his mouth to secure the wad. Then the younger man’s arms completely encircle him so as to further pin his hands.

Tom shouts indignities and squirms for all he’s worth, but the bastard has him trapped once more.

“Afraid he can’t come to the phone right now. He’s ummmm a bit tied up if you know what I mean.”

Tom groans and kicks Chris for all he’s worth. 

“It’s no problem. Nice to know you care. Mmmmhmmm. Bye.”

Chris simply lets the phone drop and smiles cheekily at Tom. Tom glares back and when Chris leans forward to bestow another kiss, he leans back while growling. Misunderstanding the hostility, Chris asks, “Oh, you ready for round two?”

Tom narrows his eyes, finally succeeds in pushing him away, and gives him the finger with both of his hands.

The next morning, Tom sports a long sleeved turtleneck while occasionally glaring at Chris. Chris takes it in stride but sometimes breaks down to beg off after the Brit. And Evans can look neither man in the face without turning bright red.


End file.
